


Against All Odds

by Fianna9, gatekat



Series: Kaizen [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Forced Bonding, M/M, Prostitution, Slavery, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 55,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8028487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fianna9/pseuds/Fianna9, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: Captured for the mechanoid slave trade, a handful of mecha are eventually selected for the latest in weapon development: a gestalt.





	1. The Players

Thundercracker booted straight into full combat awareness, checking immediately for aircraft or any sort of ground weapon in the vicinity. When nothing immediately shot at him, he took a quick klik to scan his surroundings and check his frame's current condition. Once again he was repaired back into flight condition, but his frame was showing telling signs of the damage he'd endured. Grimacing briefly at his chipped paint and worn finish, he took to the sky ready to outfly whatever they threw at him this time and tried not to think of the trinemates he hadn't seen in too long. He didn't really know how long since he'd been captured and turned into an intelligent target, but it was too long and he was beginning to feel the occasional desire to turn into a missile's or aircraft's path.

Just as he made a half reasonable altitude five blips appeared on his sensors.

So air combat it was.

Mostly ignoring the standard four guard planes since they'd never directly engaged him without provocation, he focused on the new threat traveling with them. He'd already learned it was futile to risk a sonic boom to disorient them and try to escape; the slave locks in his system shot him straight into stasis every time he tried.

His opponent separated from the guard to engage him and Thundercracker immediately pulled up at full power to see how much thrust this organic's vehicle had. His acceleration was still better, but this new one was faster than the last two vehicles they'd sent after him. Keeping ahead of the larger plane would be difficult in the limited airspace they allowed him to use, but he climbed higher preparing to dodge whatever they shot at him this time. Lasers, missiles, physical rounds, ground-to-air missiles ... they seemed to have an endless varieties of weapons to try and knock him out of the sky.

Most of the time they succeeded, eventually. The rest of the time they used the slave controls to force him to the ground near the base they kept him in.

Small slugs of metal whizzed past him and he banked sharply, turning far more tightly than his opponent could and began a spiral spin that took his wings through the breaks in the slugs flying past to buzz the test craft. It was as close as he had to a way of scoring points, even if the points were only in his own helm. He almost felt the vehicle as it passed him close enough to teek if it had a spark. As it turned to follow him he dove for the ground, hoping it would crash if he'd made his pursuer reckless enough. Yes, they'd punish him for forcing his opponent down, but if they followed him, he wasn't.

It was good to have air under his wings and the pull of gravity in submission to his power. More slugs rushed passed him and he pushed his speed up to exceed five times the sound barrier so they could no longer catch up. For a moment it was only Thundercracker, his thrusters, the air and gravity and he could forget everything, even his missing trinemates.

He was slapped abruptly back into the misery of his current existence by the familiar pain spiking through his systems a missile struck his right wing. It was a dangerously crippling blow at this speed with the ground coming up fast. It took every joule he could push into his engines and to strengthen his frame to pull out, as he saw sky ahead of his nosecone he briefly regretted the reflexive effort. An impact with the ground at that speed would have ended him quickly and cleanly. His frame would have shattered and his spark guttered faster than he could have registered it.

It was unfortunate that the stubborn determination to survive which had kept him going through the war wasn't completely extinguished yet. He knew even Starscream and Skywarp would have understood feeling the trinebond snap like that; it had happened to too many other Seekers during the war. Even as he pulled out of the dive slugs pierced his frame as the test plane continued demolishing his frame. Tired of the pain he turned on his axis and pushed his thrusters to take him up, above the test plane.

In the moment it took the guards to recalibrate for his sudden movement he dove, his afterburners still at full power and slammed nose first into the fuselage of his opponent. It wasn't the impact the ground would cause; it didn't destroy him even as it crippled him into a near-free fall through the thick atmosphere. Damaged blacked him out before he met the ground.

* * *

Jazz did his best to lose himself in the beat, the motion, the lights and energy and appreciation he could hear rather than teek. As slavery went, this wasn't bad. Pit, as an op it was downright nice. But it was slavery and not an op and he still wasn't pleased with the cosmetic rebuild he'd endured. They'd stripped his weapons before he booted from his capture, but what happened after these multicolored bipeds sold him to the highest bidder was worse. His new owners had stripped him of his armor and replaced it with what amounted to foil. It was barely enough to look pretty and wouldn't protect him from tripping, much less anything else.

So he danced as ordered, interfaced with the organics his size when ordered, watched, learned and planned.

He was going to get out. Sooner or later they would become complacent and he had time. Against organics, even cybernetically enhanced ones, time was on Jazz's side. Not one organic race built like these lasted longer than five vorns. Most lasted much less.

So he had time and he danced.

As the night progressed he heard a group of the nearby organics getting particularly louder and more boisterous. A quick scan around during a spin revealed it to be two of the sire types sitting at a close table with a carrier. All three were clearly overcharged and were staring at him as he danced. Well, it was an unusual night that didn't involve at least one backroom event for the profit of his owner, or owners. He never had quite worked out who was an owner and who simply had authority to give him orders.

A four-some would hardly be the worst way to spend a half joor so he gave them a wink and shake of his aft, all without actually ignoring those closer to him and the occasional tip they would shove into the strange fabric costume the sire-type builds all had to wear. It covered less than the carrier-type costume, though not by much. Not that either covered anything for him, but it seemed important for the visual that he have his spike and valve housings covered, even when the covers were closed.

The red sire-type with no hair and blue eyes grabbed one of the waiters and slapped a chip onto the tray while the blue one with dark green hair and pale green eyes pointed at Jazz while talking rapidly. The darker blue carrier, unusual in that her hair and eyes matched her skin, climbed to her feet and made her way through the crowd towards the backrooms. When the song ended less than half a klik later Jazz swung off the pole he'd been dancing around and on and swayed seductively as he walked off stage and headed for the room he was directed to.

The three of them had already shed most of their fabric coverings by the time Jazz stepped into the room. The carrier ordered Jazz over to the red sire sitting on the berth stroking his spike. The sire pushed Jazz to the ground in front of him and pulled his head towards the spike. It was a move Jazz went with smoothly and opened his mouth to accept the fleshy bit inside. While he was more than capable of overpowering these three with their very limited cybernetic upgrades, the guards that would be between him and any exit were another matter.

It was like sucking on a spike, and it wasn't. He had to be more careful, a lot more careful in some cases, but the motions were fundamentally similar, as was the result. The primary difference came after the organic overloaded and shot saline rich goo into his mouth. The first time he'd nearly panicked on reflex at having that much dissolved salt inside him. It left his tank upset and he scraped his glossa clean as quickly as he could, but it didn't do nearly the damaged he'd expected. Now he knew to just turn the chem receptors off and not think about it.

It wasn't fun, but it wasn't half as frustrating as pleasuring a carrier type. They almost always wanted him to spike them, which meant he not only had to keep tight control over the power he used so he satisfied her without damaging her, but he was left with a built-up charge and no ability to overload himself until he got all the organic matter she'd left off him.

Once the sire finished overloading, he got up and moved shakily over to the side while the carrier climbed up on the berth and lay down on her back with her legs spread exposing her valve. The blue sire ordered Jazz up onto the berth on top of her while he settled behind the pair preparing to spike Jazz while he spiked the carrier. In a well-practiced move, Jazz slid the cloth covering both arrays to the side and ordered them open. He kept his valve permanently lubricated on duty now, but his spike was ordered to extend and pressurize as he slid one finger along her slit to test if she'd need attention or lubricant before he entered her.

She felt slick enough for him to safely penetrate, and he kept his distaste for the feel of her fluids on his fingers hidden. The blue sire waited impatiently for him to enter the carrier's valve before sliding his own spike roughly into Jazz's valve and starting to erratically thrust. It wouldn't take the sire long, not that sires ever took long. The carrier under him moaned at his efforts and began to rock into them even as her mate filled Jazz's valve with the retched goo of his overload. It took far too long to clear that out for him to overload himself after he was done with them but before he was on stage again.

With both sire types finished he focused completely on the carrier type under him and her moans.

The carrier kept ordering him to thrust harder even though she physically couldn't handle much more, so he fractionally increased his thrust as he entered his now standard routine to give the illusion of greater force. Reaching out she grabbed his shoulders, digging her short but sharpened talons into the flimsy foil as her valve spasmed around his spike. He stilled but remained inside her until she relaxed, then slowly withdrew to give any of them time to object. It wasn't common, but sometimes clients paid for more than one round.

The blue sire pushed him away from the berth and started kissing the carrier while the red sire climbed up to join them. All three seemed to be ignoring him now that they were done with him. It was enough and Jazz slipped out of the room to clean up as much as he could before the floor boss ordered him back on stage.

* * *

Deadlock sulked, glaring at the empty wall mocking him across the way. So what if he'd tried to offline the other mech out there in the arena? The stupid posturing his master wanted just slowed down a good fight and made him look weak and incompetent. At least Megatron wasn't around to see him wasting fuel dancing around in a circle like a rank amateur. No one serious fought like that. It wasn't what he knew how to do because it was stupid. It got a mech killed, dancing like that on a battlefield.

He couldn't do it. It wasn't in him to make bad moves.

That wasn't what Deadlock was.

Besides, it wasn't like the crowd didn't enjoy watching him rip other slaves apart. He'd hear his own little sadistic following chanting his designation whenever he was out there. So what if the master complained that it got expensive replacing his opponents every time he fought? It wasn't like they were an actual challenge. Cannon fodder couldn't cost that much.

The sound of a full squad of the half-organic biped eight guards marching towards him snapped Deadlock from his contemplation and he moved to get a look at them, their stance and pace. The sooner he knew whether they were here for him or not the better off he was. And the more he could hurt them before he went down.

All eight were visibly cybered and heavily armed like almost every guard he'd seen in, under or around the arena. He watched them slow and stop just outside his door. Guess it was his turn in the ring again. It was a little early for a normal match but maybe someone special wanted a private show? Whatever it was, Deadlock was eager for it. Fighting was as close to freedom as he got. Once turned lose he was his own until someone managed to stop him.

The feral grin on his face places made the guard in front, his hand near the door control, pause and scowl at him.

"Be still." The one next to the leader barked at Deadlock, and then the door was open.

It was tempting to attack them as soon as the door opened, but they'd learned to expect him to try something and had weapons leveled. Maybe this time he'd wait and catch them off guard during the walk? He might be able to take a couple of them out that way. The pathetic organics weren't as durable as he was.

Yes, play like he'd learned his lesson, at least somewhat, and see where he was going. He stepped out and barely got a sound of surprise out before he was cuffed and collared in a way he hadn't been since the slave market right after he'd been captured, along with half of the crew. He could still move, still think, but the disruptive charge the devices sent through his systems scrambled him enough that it took his full effort just to get one pede in front of the other so they didn't shove him.

The squad hustled him down a different hall leading away from the actual arena; a path he hadn't been on since he'd been brought here. He was pushed through a door and found a larger squad with more heavily cybered warriors waiting for them. Maybe his kills had actually cost the master more than he was making off the fights?

But what could they use him for that wasn't fighting?

He'd find out, and soon. Shoved into a cage and loaded on a transport that was part of a small convoy, whoever had bought him wasn't taking chances on him escaping. They wanted him functional.

But for what?

After a long, boring trip the cage was unloaded at what looked like a hanger at a military base. Huh, maybe they'd finally realized he was a warrior not an actor and were going to let him do what he was good at, namely killing things. Lots and lots of things.

Maybe he'd even get guns again, at least before he hit the drop zone.

A smaller transport, barely big enough to hold the cage, came up beside him and the cage was transferred to it and inside the base he went.

Eventually the transport stopped in a large room, and the cage was unloaded. His was the only cage present, but there was plenty of room around it. Maybe it was a training area; he'd certainly be a challenge for any soldier they wanted to send against him with or without weapons. At the moment, however, there was nothing and it wasn't long before he dozed off.

* * *

Pick up the brown box. Walk 30 paces across the room to the pallet. Put the box down on the pallet in a row. Walk 30 paces back across the room. Repeat process until pallet had 60 brown boxes stacked on it. Pick up the black box. Walk 36 paces across the room to the pallet. Put the box down on the pallet in a row. Walk 36 paces across the room. Repeat process until pallet has 20 black boxes stacked on it. Move the pallet to the shipment area. Start next pallet.

He didn't know how long he had been here, and it didn't really matter in the long run. The routine never varied in the warehouse no matter when the overseer decided to order him back to work.

He remembered just enough from before this place to know without a doubt it was a significant improvement no matter how unhappy he felt. He still didn't understand why he had such an issue with this place, only that he did. He wasn't damaged here. He had fuel here. No one yelled at him. Nothing blew up. Nothing but moving boxes.

Why did he hate it then? It seemed so much better than the glimpses of before that his shattered processors and memory core occasionally dropped into his awareness and made him stumble, cry out and sometimes even go into enough of a physical fit to be sent to repair.

He really wished repair would work out a way to stop those memories, or whatever they were.

He wanted to be content. His memories seemed intent on making sure he wasn't.

* * *

Wing knelt to meditate, still determined after vorns in slave-service to his master's family to maintain as much as he could of his oaths and the Ways of Light. He was lucky in having a respectful master, a whole line of them really, that had grasped early as well that loyalty given freely was a multitude stronger than loyalty forced by code. Yes, he was their slave, property and not a legal person, but they granted him significant leeways and privileges and in exchange he required little supervision and even fewer threats no matter how complex the task he was given. He even gave them occasional pointers on how to manage their wealth and power for the long run, for his lifespan was far longer than theirs.

He knew, sooner or later, one of them would legally free him. Until then, he reminded himself every orn that he was fantastically lucky to have a series of owners that saw him as more valuable than a walking pile of bolts.

For the past few decaorn he had watched his current master become slower and feebler. Wing knew from experience that he would soon be passed to the next in the family line, and it would be his duty to protect and serve his new master as he had done for all the others. The eldest of the line had not yet taken a permanent mate but that would most likely change with the passing of the elder. While passing the title of family head onto a younger sibling instead of a creation was not without precedent, it was not favored in this family no matter how important or time consuming the head's function was.

It was well into the local night when a shift in his master's respiration cycle drew Wing into the room to scan the frail form more directly. Immediately he opened up several comm lines in accordance with his orders. The chief of staff, the adult siblings and creations at the estate, the family doctor and a message to the eldest creation. She was half the world away, currently at work. There was no need to interrupt her with a priority ping given there was no way for her to return before her sire extinguished.

One of the adult sire siblings and two of his creations reached his master's room at almost the same time, and they began to hover around and fuss about his master's bedding. Wing recognized it as helplessness rather than any slight to his care for his master. The family doctor replied that he was on the way to the residence. By the time the doctor was escorted into the room by the chief of staff every family member on the estate was gathered. After taking careful readings, the doctor confirmed Wing's scans; his master would most likely pass before dawn.

Other than asking the doctor if there was anything Wing could do to ease his master's time, Wing remained clear but present. He would be there should a demand arise. He would be there, to be seen, so no one thought he was using this event to escape. While most of the family viewed him favorably, it was not universal and until his next master arrived he would be in a precarious position here. Even if this master had intended to free him on his deactivation it would not be until the reading of the will that the family would know and the estate's lawyer would defend him.


	2. Assembling the Components

Wing looked up as his new master returned from her duties far earlier than he'd come to expect. Granted he'd only been on base with her for four local day-night cycles, but he had a reasonable grasp of her schedule and desires already.

"Sweetwater, ma'am?" he asked as he stood quickly from the chair he'd been reading in.

"No, come with me. How accurately can you identify your own kind?" she asked with her usual manner.

"To my knowledge, quite accurately, ma'am," he answered as he followed her into the hallway of the base where the unmated scientists lived.

He made a note of where various storage rooms and facilities were located so as to be better able to fulfill his master's needs. Eventually she lead him out of the building and over to the repair bay where he had been examined when he first arrived at the base. After passing through several security doors, he followed her into a repair bay with a badly damaged flier lying on a medical table.

"Is this one of your kind?" She asked.

"I need to be within arm's reach. A touch is more accurate, ma'am," he clarified the parameters now that he knew it wasn't an idle question.

"Very well," she nodded to him.

"Basic design indicates he may be," Wing spoke as he walked closer, careful not to move too quickly around the heavily armed and somewhat tense guards. As his field connected with the damaged flier he caught the teek of a spark there, but continued until he hand his hand over the mech's shattered canopy. "He is Cybertronian. A larger flight frame. Likely a Seeker, though I can't be sure."

"The repair subject is confirmed to be of the Cybertronian species," Wing heard one of his master's colleagues speaking to someone on his comm. He left his hand resting lightly on the flier's canopy. It had been many vorns since he had teeked or touched one of his own kind, and the silent company was a welcome relief even in this battered condition.

"Wing, come," his master ordered and he was obeying even before he'd fully processed the order. "There is a second one to confirm."

A second one? Wing followed his master out of the repair bay and down several hallways. She offered no explanation why she wanted to know if these mecha were Cybertronian, and Wing did not expect to receive one. Perhaps they were intended as slave soldiers. They remained in the same building, though it was at least two levels lower when she opened a heavily secured door to a room over five times as tall as Wing. There were a few pieces of furniture here and there, simple and not that comfortable looking, but what caught his attention was the sound coming from a spot in a wall.

Behind a barred section a mech snarled demands and curses at them in at least dozen languages, some of which Wing didn't even recognize. He knew Cybertronian Imperial standard though, and this mech wanted _out_.

"Is this another of your kind?" She asked, motioning towards the cell with a slight impatient look on her face.

Wing walked over and stood in front of the bars, staring at the mech who was now directing his curses at Wing. He looked like he could be a Cybertronian ground frame, but there were many mechanoid races out in the stars that shared their basic design. Reaching out, he brought his hand in front of the mech and tried to teek him deeply enough to know if there was a spark signature. As far as he knew, only Cybertronians had sparks.

This one definitely had a spark. As aggressive, angry and volatile a spark as Wing had ever encountered.

Cybertronian? Yes. Sane? Likely not.

"He appears to be a Cybertronian ground frame," Wing told her, hoping she wouldn't insist he touch this grounder as confirmation; he didn't think the mech would appreciate the physical contact and had no wish to get into physical combat with such an aggressive warrior.

The mech growled insults at him as Wing answered his master.

"Good. Come," she ordered with a nod and led him out of the building and to a vehicle with a driver and large trailer for moving beings. "Back seat," she pointed and he obeyed, ever more confused as to what was going on. She got in the front passenger seat and turned to the driver. "Pilar's Market."

"Yes ma'am," the driver responded and they were off.

They left the base and drove in silence towards the city. Wing wondered where they were going. Finally they finally reached an enormous gray metal building outside the city proper. Wing stared briefly at the heavily cybered guards standing at the main entrance as the driver parked the vehicle alongside many others all with transport trailers of varying sizes. He waited patiently while his master exited the vehicle.

"Come," his master ordered as she opened the back door.

Wing quickly complied and quietly noted several of the guards paying particular attention to him as he fell into step behind his master. He could hear a large crowd in the building but was not prepared for what he saw inside. It was huge, multi-leveled with an open foyer and more races milling about than he could even begin to designate. It was unlike anywhere he'd been on this world. Most places seemed exclusively native, or at most natives with their off-world slaves and pets.

Not so here. Aliens of all descriptions browsed the stalls and caged offerings of aliens of all races. He knew this was a market so as he walked behind his master he worked to pick out the merchants and realized that as galactic as the market seemed to be, every single seller was a native of this world.

His master walked confidently through the foyer moving easily through the crowd. Wing made certain to stay close to her, not wanting to attract attention. He noted that she never glanced at any of the organics and only paid brief attention to non-biped mechanoids in the stalls. He was mostly likely here so he could find her more of his own race, although he had no idea why her needs were that specific.

Stopping in front of a stall with two orange mechanoids in cages, she looked straight at him and said, "Are they your kind?"

Stepping forward, Wing reached out a hand and teeked each of the pair. They didn't read like Cybertronians. No spark signature.

"No ma'am," he told her.

"Follow," she ordered, ignoring the sire trying to talk to her about his merchandise. She turned and walked out of the stall heading down the line past another merchant with avian mechanoids on stands. Wing didn't point out that they might be Cybertronians; his master hadn't even looked at them.

She worked her way through the level, stopping at each stall with bipedal mechanoids and ordering Wing to teek the merchandise, but each time he could only tell her that they were not his race. Having checked the entire lower level, his master headed for the second level and began her search again.

On the third stop of the level Wing actually double-checked that he teeked what he thought he Cybertronian. Stripped almost completely of armor, skinny in a way that was both erotic and very unsettling, this one was from Cybertron as he was. There was a moment where he pressed into the teek a bit further, seeking to know all he could.

This mech felt completely different from the crazy one back in the cell and seemed mostly nonthreatening. He was tense but that was understandable given his very existence was currently in a state of flux. Wing could tell the mech was reading his field as well and tried to be as positive as he could. After all, his master hadn't hurt him, and it appeared the others were being repaired. It had to be better than most of the other alternatives for what was obviously a pleasure slave.

Shifting his attention back to his master, he said, "Yes, ma'am."

His master immediately turned and began to barter with the merchant. Wing listened to her, but he kept part of his attention on the new mech wanting to know how he reacted to being purchased. A lot passed through the mech's field and frame, all small and muted. By the time a deal was struck Wing was sure this mech had not always been a pleasure slave and knew the local language better than the locals likely gave him credit for. This one had been a dancer once, may have been a pleasurebot or even a courtesan, but there was a lot of concealed combat training there too. The question he didn't have an answer for was what came first, and what was by choice. The war that Wing had fled with so many others to avoid would have turned anyone who wanted to survive into either a very good warrior, or a very good sneak-thief. He doubted there was room in the war for anything else.

No matter what though, at least this one was sane.

His master motioned him to move on with her and they continued through the market, checking every bipedal mechanoid without success. Her mood as they returned to the vehicle was a mixture of annoyed and pleased, and she ordered Wing to confirm that the mech in a cage in the trailer was indeed the one she had purchased.

He placed a hand against the cage and teeked the mech again so he could honestly confirm the mech's identity. With that confirmation, his master again ordered him into the back seat, and the driver headed back to the base with their cargo.

* * *

Jazz booted to a longer list of repairs and updates than he had in a very, very long time. The major ones to catch his attention were the increased mass, more than he'd ever had in the war, and new coding. Whoever his new owner was, they had access to some pretty mad programming skills to manage to hack him that deep. Slave coding was a surface thing compared to this, wherever this was. He focused on poking at the coding, translating it from the local language carefully until the thrust of it became clear.

A transformation sequence.

Pondering the transformation sequence, Jazz tried to figure out what they wanted him to transform into now since that would tell him what he was going to be used for by his new owner. Given his current upgrades he doubted he was still primarily a pleasure mech. This certainly wasn't what he'd expected after his old owner's club closed down and all the slaves were sold off. What use was a jointed pole with no means of movement?

Boot sequence complete, he dimly lit his optics enough to get a basic read of the location without giving away his awareness to anyone nearby that didn't know him well.

Except no one was nearby. The room was empty except for the rather nice berth he was on, five solid walls and one that was partially solid. Optics fully lit he looked around a little more clearly. The sixth wall had solid bars and a door. Beyond that was a rather large room with some furniture, and on the far wall more cage doors.

He couldn't see more without moving and giving away his online state, but at this point more information was more important. Assuming there might be surveillance equipment of some kind, he made a show of onlining slowly and looking around as if confused by his new surroundings. Play down his processors and experience. Play down anything that made him seem strong, dangerous or fast.

Shifting over to the edge of the berth and standing slowly was not a show; he needed to get used to his increased mass and shifted center of gravity if he was going to move efficiently. What was a show was how long it took him to make that adjustment.

He carefully walked over to the bars and looked out at the open room and the cages over on the other side. Now that he was upright, he could see a large mechanoid moving around in the open room. Wide wings, deep blue, it took effort not to allow his vents to stall as it sank in that frame was a Seeker, and they did stutter slightly when the mech turned towards him and he recognized Thundercracker.

It was all Jazz could do to pray that his shock would come across as something besides the recognition-fear it was when the big mech turned towards him fully and walked over.

Thundercracker stopped in front of the cell and looked Jazz over with no real recognition, apparently Jazz's physical changes were enough to at least temporarily fool the Seeker who'd rarely been in close contact with the saboteur. Jazz caught the brief flash of annoyance and relief flickering across the Seeker's face before it slipped into a more impassive expression. He rumbled, "What's your designation, grounder? What leader do you serve?"

"Shimmer. I served whoever paid for the night," he said in a light Crystal City accent. He didn't need to fake the half afraid, half hopeful look at what that cover would see as a potential protector. The distress about his rebuilt was real too, though not as deep as he was playing it. "I used to be so pretty. Why would they ruin what I was made for?"

Thundercracker settled slightly at the designation but didn't relax completely, not surprising especially given their current situation. "Neither of us know why we are here although we have some guesses. You do not fit with most of them but why would we expect them to care about our functions?"

"The new fodder's online? You going to come out and play with us?" a harsher voice spoke as a mech stalked into Jazz's view and headed towards his cell.

This one Jazz only knew by reputation, but what a reputation. Deadlock was one of only a handful of mecha that Sunstreaker had some fear of. Arguably among the best of the Decepticon slaughter machines, he hadn't been on Cybertron for a long time. 

What an orn this was turning into. His roommates were both Decepticon elite.

"My last several owners paid well for my finish and skill," Shimmer could only stutter and shy away from the open aggression that Deadlock radiated. "What should I call you?"

"Thundercracker," the Seeker did not move out of Deadlock's way but didn't stop him from getting closer to the cell.

"Deadlock," the Decepticon fighter grunted as he looked Shimmer over, obviously examining his new frame. "Get out here so we can have some fun."

Jazz finished relaxed into the profile and shifted his frame to be a bit more enticing while he looked for the way to open the door. "How much of a party do you want?" he purred willingly.

Thundercracker tapped a block of metal just outside the door on the inside. "Palm it. It only responds to the cell's owner."

Without hesitating, Shimmer reached up and pressed his hand against the indicated location. Given Deadlock's reputation this might wind up hurting a lot more than interfacing with the organics, but with how expensive this rebuild must have been it was unlikely their owners would let the Decepticon deactivate him. It would be a pleasant change of pace to interface with someone he didn't have to worry about accidentally hurting. He could even get off with them.

That thought made him genuinely eager as the bar door slid to the side. "Both at once, or one at a time? Been _so_ long since I've been with another mech."

A shutter rippled across Thundercracker's wings as he stepped back away from Shimmer as he stepped out of the cell. If he could lock the door then that cell was also a sanctuary; it wouldn't stay that way with a 'Con inside with him.

Deadlock chuckled and grabbed Shimmer's arm firmly, pulling the dancer closer, "Just me this time. Seekers don't like grounders like that."

"Gotcha," Shimmer purred and wantonly rubbed against Deadlock's entire frame. "What's your fancy, hot stuff?"

Deadlock revved his engine and pressed Shimmer up against the bars, reaching down with his other hand to grab Shimmer's right leg, "I'm going to try out these new mods by pounding you into the wall and then the floor. If you can still move afterwards I might actually be impressed."

"If you manage to knock me off line, _I'll_ be impressed," Jazz moaned eagerly and snapped both interface array covers open and angled to make his valve easier to drive into. "Been so long since I've had a real spike. Bet yours is big."

Some distance away Thundercracker made an unhappy gagging sound but just moved further away.

Deadlock growled and snapped his spike cover open, sliding his spike straight into Jazz's valve and immediately started driving into the dancer. It was obvious to Jazz that it had been a long time since he'd been near another even reluctantly-willing Cybertronian. It was a sensation Jazz could relate to, though likely not to the extent Deadlock had.

Even so, the driving thrust, the spike, a real spike, sliding across his valve nodes was blissful and he was shameless in letting Deadlock know that.

Deadlock let go of Jazz's arm and grabbed his hip, claws digging in to hold him in place as he rode the quickly building charge. He kept thrusting even as the overload hit hard and kept moving, unwilling to give up this pleasure. Jazz wasn't about to discourage him either as his own overload crashed through him with the third burst of transfluid against the anterior nodes.

Having satisfied his initial urge after so long without a real partner, Deadlock focused on thrusting deep into Jazz's valve, enjoying the ride, "Gonna drive every trace of them out of you. No way one of them could ever satisfy a mech, especially not like I can."

"Never allowed to build a charge. It'd hurt them," Jazz gasped out with his field a wild cacophony of joy-filled pleasure feeding into Deadlock's. "Oh Primus, this is good."

"They're weak; that's why they want us to do their fighting. Even you could take them out given the chance," Deadlock leaned in and bit Jazz's left shoulder, not penetrating the armor but using the move to run his glossa along the plating and cables he could reach. Without hesitation Jazz moaned eagerly and arched into the contact, offering more, all but begging for it. The pleasure-charge built between them as the thrusting continued.

Biting down harder on Jazz's neck, Deadlock felt the pleasure washing through his field as he overloaded again into that valve. Once his vision cleared, he pulled away from the bars and dropped them both to the ground, sprawling the pleasuremech beneath him as he started thrusting again as he grunted, "Told you I was gonna drive you into the floor; I keep my promises."

"Told me you'd drive me off-line," Jazz thrust up into each movement Deadlock made, and grinned as the frontliner drove him harder.

* * *

He began a boot process that seemed sluggish, though he couldn't recall why it seemed that way or what normal should be. It hardly mattered so he relaxed and allowed the process to happen, and happen, and suddenly he recognized the boot sequence as a medical one. He'd been damaged, badly. Judging by the rather significant swaths of recent time that was fundamentally blank, he'd taken a lot more damage that he should have survived.

The room felt empty to his field, not at all what a medbay should teek like. One mech he didn't recognize and one mech-sized organic with cybernetic upgrades, and that was it.

With a silent sigh Prowl onlined his optics to look around. It was a type of medbay, although it did not appear similar to any kind he had seen before. A white Cybertronian Aerial stood near his left shoulder obviously watching him. A bright orange organic with red hair was working on a datapad of some kind near the foot of his berth while muttering quietly.

"Designation?" the Aerial asked politely in Cybertronian.

"Prowl," he gave the most stripped-down variant that was viable for an adult. It left out some important things, like that he was an Autobot command officer, the former TCO of the army and that he had solid combat training far beyond the fact that he'd been sparked an Enforcer hinted at. He should read as a grunt, or at most a low-level field officer. "Yours?"

The organic snapped at them and Wing said something in gibberish. 

A scowl and then an audible sigh. "I don't understand the local language," Prowl said in Cybertronian.

The Aerial spoke another long string of gibberish to the organic who scowled before turning to one of the machines connected to Prowl's frame. Once the organic was busy, he shifting back to Cybertronian and continued speaking, "I am Wing. You required extensive repairs and suffered a great deal of processor damage. Do you recall any events of the last vorn?"

Prowl ran through his memories, fragmentary as they were. "Walking patterns. A grid. Boxes. Nothing in context." And wasn't that something that sent his tac-net into a fit.

Wing nodded and translated Prowl's words before continuing, "That fits with the warehouse work we were told you did before your repair costs exceeded your perceived value." He hesitated a moment before continuing quietly, "Have you checked your current programming changes?"

"Not in detail," he admitted. "There is a new transformation sequence and I recognize the effects of slave coding, though it is not flagged as new. Given a vorn or more of changes no longer flagged as new, I expect there are more."

Wing seemed relieved he didn't have to explain that status change, "Yes, we are both slave coded. My master purchased you from the center after your previous owners refused to pay for more repairs. The local language will be downloaded to you as soon as the medic is satisfied with the status of your repairs. He should be finishing the checks in just a few kliks."

"What will be my duties now?" Prowl asked more calmly that he felt.

Wing looked a little flustered, "We are currently on a military base, and our master has had me seek out Cybertronians for her including you. I believe based on your armor refit that it is some sort of slave soldier program, but I don't know very much about her intentions for you. I spend most of my time in her quarters attending to her needs, and she does not share information with me unless necessary."

"Understood," Prowl accepted the statement for the truth it likely was. At a minimum he knew this mech would not tell him more with local around.

Wing stood silently by Prowl's side in a relaxed guard position while the medic finished puttering around checking his systems and finally sent the language program to Prowl for installation. A few checks that it had installed correctly later and the medic ordered Prowl to his pedes, nodded when the mech complied.

"Take it to the habitat," the medic gave Wing the order, though it was directed at Prowl as well.

"Yes, sir," Wing answered politely before heading towards the door with Prowl following him. Outside the door were four heavily-cybered organic soldiers waiting for them. Wing waited for them to fall into place around Prowl before heading down the hallways towards the habitat where the other three Cybertronians were kept. They passed several groups of soldiers along the way. Like all the others Wing had seen they were all heavily-cybered and geared for combat.

* * *

"I'm going," Thundercracker snapped at the robot that was prodding him with an electro-rod towards his cell. It wasn't the usual time to recharge. Not far away Deadlock was snarling vitriol but complying, and somehow the pleasurebot was keeping ahead of the painful end of the rod. Thundercracker was prodded inside as the door slammed shut, locking him in the claustrophobia-inducing cell he loathed but endured like every other abuse heaped upon him by these organics. At least he wasn't been shot to pieces again, but the lack of sky was beginning to tell on him.

Once all three Cybertronians were confined inside their cells, the main door opened. Two heavily armed organic guards entered, scanning the room for potential trouble. Once they gave the all-clear a small white Aerial entered the room followed by another grounder. Even with the modifications the organics had done to their frames, this one was obviously a Praxian. It wasn't long past that when Thundercracker placed the bearing that only one surviving Praxian was known to have.

Prowl. Second in Command of the Autobots. Architect of the war. A dead shot with anything.

An Autobot that recognized Thundercracker and Deadlock quickly, spent longer on the pleasurebot but didn't seem to recognize him. Which fit with Prowl's reputation as well. Shimmer wasn't the kind of mech he'd know of.

Two Decepticons, one a Seeker, and a Praxian Autobot confined inside a locked room; the potential for internal violence had just become almost a certainty. Thundercracker briefly wondered if Prowl would be able to end his misery before the slave coding stopped him from offlining the Seeker.

The guards and the Aerial escorted Prowl over to an empty cell across from the Decepticons, ignoring the familiar curses Deadlock filled the quiet with. Prowl entered the cell and waited obediently while the door was closed and locked. The Aerial said a few things quietly, then left with the guards.

"How long have you been here?" Prowl surprised everyone by speaking first to Thundercracker.

Seeing no reason not to answer what was a reasonable question from the tactician, Thundercracker thought for a moment before answering, "In this room almost a decaorn; on this cursed planet no idea. I have not been online for most of my imprisonment."

Prowl flicked his doorwings in understanding and acceptance. "What of Deadlock?"

"Deadlock was brought to this room two orn before I onlined from my last round of repairs," Thundercracker answered, ignoring the familiar cursing still coming from the cell next to him. "He claims to have been enslaved for almost 10 vorns and to have spent most of the time in the gladiator pits."

"It would suit him," Prowl hummed, then tested his door and opened it a bit cautiously. When nothing zapped or assaulted him for the effort he stepped out to look at the last member of the odd gathering. "Who and what are you?"

"Shimmer, I am...was a dancer," the soft voice answered as the mech looked Prowl over much as he had the two Decepticons. "I've been a slave for almost two vorn, but these masters don't seem to want me for pleasure."

"Not with that build," Prowl agreed as he judged the frame before him. "Have you been anything else?"

"Just a dancer and a pleasuremech, much like I was back in Crystal City and afterwards. At least before I knew what was expected of me," was the quiet reply. "What about you? What is your designation?" Jazz asked, playing up the part he'd taken to the fullest as he flaunted his frame the best he could. He didn't go so far as to try and open the door yet. Even without knowing Prowl entirely too well the Praxian's frame language was stand-offish enough to give him space. There would be time to hit on him later and get some time alone.

"Prowl. I have been a Praxian Enforcer, Autobot security, tactical and an officer," he rattled off the major points of his carrier. "You are an odd one to be here," he hummed more to himself before continuing on to explore the room. All of them saw how pleased he was at the simple washrack and the quiver of those doorwings in anticipation of being clean after a major rebuild.

"Three warriors and a pleasuremech rebuilt into a warframe with an as yet unknown likely to join us later," Thundercracker mused out loud as he looked over at the still empty cell. "Perhaps Shimmer is here to keep you sated as well as fight beside us? It wouldn't be a first for a fighting unit although there are normally more members." It was unpleasant even thinking about using a grounder in that role, but Deadlock had certainly been taking advantage of the opportunity.

"No, it would not be the first time. I suspect most units have at least one mech in the role, officially or not," Prowl agreed as he continued his circuit of the room until he came back around to his door. He walked more confidently to Jazz's door. "Shimmer, if that will open for you, I would like help with washing and polishing my back."

"Of course, let's get you all shined up," Jazz reached out and touched the lock, looking pleased to be seen as useful but privately ready to seize the opportunity to let the other Autobot know he wasn't alone. Prowl wasn't his top choice of partners in this mess, but if he lived up to half his reputation he'd be a useful resource. The shower was right next to Thundercracker's cell, but it was the closest thing to privacy short of a hardline they'd have anytime soon.

Prowl nodded and turned to walk to the washrack. In reality it was just an open cell with three showerheads along the back wall with a sensor to turn them on and off, a drain in the middle, a single dispenser for cleanser and one for packages of polish and two cloths on the other. 

It was beyond basic, but Jazz had survived on far, far worse for long stretches. From what he knew of Prowl's record, so had the Praxian. Still, after a long run in the field, even this was a luxury and it was clear as he stepped under the central faucet that Prowl viewed it as such. The first rain of liquid down Prowl's frame drew a low, indulgent moan from Prowl and not even a twitch of shame about it.

Taking a moment to grab some cleanser, Jazz gave him a klik to just enjoy the spray before he started to work on Prowl's shoulders and back. Whether it was because of the rebuild or whatever he'd been used as before this purchase, there was all sorts of dirt and debris embedded in Prowl's frame. It was going to take a thorough scrubbing to get him clean, and that would give them time to talk. It was also time to teek and assess a side of a mech Jazz had never gotten close to before. Sure, they'd worked together, sometimes intensely, but Prowl had never once dropped out of professional mode around him. It was fascinating, reassuring and a bit disturbing all at once to realize that this was the first moment where Jazz could honestly say he was absolutely sure Prowl was a _mech_. That Prowl understood pleasure and had desires.

"It feels so much better to be clean, doesn't it Prowl?" Jazz purred quietly near the Praxian's audials, shifting to his normal timbre at the very end, saying his name just like he'd said so many times when meeting with the tactician. He felt recognition in Prowl's field with a spike of surprise.

"Yes. It's always meant civility and safety," Prowl answered with a soft voice and an utter lack of trying to hide how important _clean_ was to him after the necessities of survival. It was an openness that simply didn't fit with Prowl unless something had drastically changed with the Praxian during his enslavement, but Jazz really couldn't think of anything that should impact the former Enforcer to this extent. He'd been trained to withstand torture and endure hardships. Still carefully scrubbing away at the Praxian frame, Jazz mumbled back, "Safety is questionable with our present company. You have a new alt mode too?"

"A new sequence. It has been low on my priority list to work out," Prowl leaned into the touch, almost reveling in it.

"I don't know why they have me turning into a stationary pole. Can't be of much use that way." If anyone back on Cybertron had ever mentioned Prowl acting like this Jazz and every Autobot he knew would have laughed at them. Jazz was honestly getting worried about processor damage, but there was no one here he trusted to check the tactician over and no way to voice his concern if there was. Shimmer wouldn't realize Prowl was behaving strangely. So he just carried on, shifting to Prowl's doorwings now that his back was cleaned up.

A quiver passed under Jazz's hands and a flush of heat, but also a dim sense that Prowl didn't feel that it was a correct response. At least Prowl seemed somewhat aware he was acting oddly.

"What did they have you doing before here?" Jazz decided to see if he could get some details in questions it was plausible his cover would ask.

"I was told it was as a warehouse drone," Prowl's simple answer contained a wealth of information for a mech who understood just how bad damage had to be to cause Prowl's Enforcer-grade memory core to forget anything.

That much damage could explain Prowl's weird behavior but left Jazz with even more concerns. It felt strange since he'd never bothered worrying about anything other than the Praxian's tactical functionality before, but right now Prowl was his only reliable option for an ally. Rubbing the cleanser deeper into a particularly stubborn spot just inside one of the doorwing's hinges he murmured sympathetically, "Sounds more monotonous than my time in the clubs."

"If I'd been self aware enough to notice, it likely would have been," Prowl sighed softly in the pleasure of being cleaner. "There are worse fates than boredom, however. How much do you know of Thundercracker's stay?"

"He's mentioned stasis once or twice, and he doesn't mention his trine at all. Deadlock commented that he heard Thundercracker was in bad shape when they brought him here; my guess is he was involved with a military or paramilitary group in some way. The Seeker hasn't shown much interest in me and rarely talks; he isn't interested in grounders." Jazz didn't like having such limited intel, but he didn't have a lot of sources available at the moment. Of course he'd seen things that Shimmer has no business knowing, so even here he kept quiet and hoped that Prowl would say it.

"Target practice would be my assessment, and Seekers are never happy around grounders. We're lucky he's one of the saner, more stable ones I know of," Prowl said as his optics drifted off and he allowed himself to simply drift in the pleasure of being cleaned.

Jazz nodded and kept working on Prowl's frame until he was as clean as their limited supplies could manage. He stepped back to grab the polish and watched the last of the cleanser rinse off. "Ready for a polish?" he asked.

"Yes," Prowl's frame and field gave a tiny quiver and half to Jazz's surprise, he left the shower room and invited Jazz into his room so Prowl could lay down on his front. It was curious to Jazz, but he wasn't going to complain about having Prowl alone for longer. If he played it right he might even manage a hardline. Also curious to him was how civil Praxian and Seeker were to each other. It wasn't natural to either group since their cities had been leveled, though Prowl and Thundercracker were both level mechs.

As the polishing continued and Prowl continued to relax, Jazz began to teek intent under it. It was arousal, but it felt just a bit off. Not forced, precisely, but not desired either, despite the fact that Prowl didn't crush it.

He'd never seen or imagined the tactician aroused, but the lack of desire for that arousal was even stranger. Curious to see just how far Prowl was willing to go and wanting that hardline connection, Jazz began to shift the polishing to a more sensual level and focused even more on Prowl's doorwings. Leaning down close to Prowl's head he whispered, "You interested in more?"

"If you have it in you to give me a hard reboot overload," Prowl's voice was just as quiet but full of need.

"There's a challenge I'll accept," Jazz climbed carefully up to straddle Prowl's back, using the opportunity to examine all the Praxian's frame changes he could see and touch. Starting with easiest targets, his sensitive fingers caressed the hinges of the doorwings while he carefully licked and nibbled on the edges, monitoring Prowl's reactions as he tried to draw out more arousal and pleasure from his newest partner. When Prowl let go of the tight constraints on his reactions he abruptly began to teek as a normal mech. His field flared outward, almost burning hot against Jazz's and he arched into the touch with a needy sound that wasn't muted in the least.

"Hardline," Prowl gasped out. "Need the direct charge."

Caught almost by surprise by such a sudden and overwhelming reaction, Jazz hesitated for just a nanoklik before accepting the desperate offer, bracing himself for what he knew was going to be an intense ride, and linking directly into Prowl's systems. The electronic handshakes took far longer for them both than most mechs did, though for entirely different reasons. Jazz had his Ops upgrades and a lifetime of well-needed paranoia. For Prowl it was purely code-driven. Code centered exclusively on protecting the experimental hardware he'd been designed and created to support.

~Jazz. Identify.~ Prowl's first thought across the line was when they were still barely connected, at a stage where it would be easy to boot the other out.

~Jazz, Second-in-Command of Autobot SpecOps.~ Jazz answered back, still caressing Prowl's frame. To an observer it would look like they were just having a good time, and he wanted to keep it that way.

~Prowl, Autobot Chief Tactical Officer,~ Prowl confirmed what Jazz already knew. ~I've had critical processor damage that was unpaired for at least a vorn. While the cause of continuing damage has been addressed they are not aware of my specialized systems enough do so properly. My best option here and now is to be overloaded to the point of a hard shutdown and allow my systems to use the cascading charge jumping wires to finish the corrections. It will not be easy. My entire frame and internal structure was designed to avoid overloading easily to avoid the damage one can cause to my tac-net.~

Jazz briefly analyzed the explanation for Prowl's strange behavior and his solution. ~With the current damage to your processor and the likelihood of repairs by this method, you've concluded that the potential risk to your tac-net is acceptable especially given we don't want them to learn about your systems. Sounds like a challenge to me.~ Jazz leaned down and ran his glossa across the hinges below him.

~A pleasurable one, I hope,~ Prowl agreed with a moan. ~This is the last ditch effort. If it doesn't work, I will adjust my priorities to my new norms.~

~I'll take those odds. You prefer spike or valve? I want to see you overload.~ Jazz mentally pulled out every trick he'd ever learned on as a pleasurebot and everything he knew about Praxian frames offering options to see how Prowl would react. Doorwings, predictably, were a top spot, but the way Prowl pushed his shoulders up and forehelm down, he moved to the neck. Kisses, nibbles and stroking fingers soon brought Prowl to a state of trembling.

~Either,~ Prowl pressed that he was telling the truth. ~Like hardline and spark best. Bright. Intense. Clean.~

The idea that the stoic tactician was being this open and needy for him was a bit intoxicating, but Jazz kept their current situation in mind even as he sent a strong pulse through their connection and let his own lust fill his field. ~Would you trust Shimmer with your spark? I would love to feel you overload like that but I can keep it to hardline and tactile if that's what you want. Either way I'm going to have lots of fun making you scream in pleasure.~

~I'm sure you will, and I don't think I can play deluded enough to trust Shimmer with a bared spark. Not against Thundercracker at least,~ Prowl admitted with a touch of regret as he moved with Jazz's nudge to roll over. ~It will have to remain physical only.~

Jazz reached down and ran his hands along Prowl's interface panels, tracing the edges with his fingers. ~We'll keep the sparks for later then. Right now, I'd say you should open up and let me taste you.~

Prowl shivered, a movement that field and hardline backed up as real as both panels slid open. The heat Jazz could feel against his fingers was minimal, yet every signal Prowl gave spoke of willingness and a general lack of experience.

Slowly kissing his way down Prowl's frame, Jazz moved until he was settled between Prowl's knees. Bending over while he lifted Prowl's hips Jazz pressed his lip plates around Prowl's anterior node so his glossa could properly stimulate it, all the while his fingers kept stroking Prowl's valve. He wanted the Praxian properly aroused especially since given everything said so far Jazz was certain Prowl had never had a real overload. He was just grateful that despite that Prowl also didn't seem to have a poor view of interfacing. Just as important was that his equipment was fully functional if the slickness and pleasured teek.

Jazz purred and sent a strong pulse through the hardline just as he slipped two fingers inside seeking out the deepest node he could reach. ~I'm liking the way you taste. Think I want some more.~

~Yes, all yours, anything you want," Prowl moaned and willingly pressed into the contact a little more. ~Feels good. So easy to ignore that.~

~You're not going to be able to ignore this when I get done with you.~ Jazz slipped the fingers out of Prowl's valve quickly replacing them with his glossa. Experimenting to figure out what would drive Prowl's charge even higher was getting his own systems running hot. The open willingness of such an inexperienced mech was intoxicating even before the rush of knowing just who it was.

Even as the spike was hard against one hand and lubricant thick against his fingers and glossa, Jazz knew this wasn't enough. Prowl'd get off on this, but likely only as well as his usual; pleasurable but not intense. Still, it was working on the frame so Jazz focused on that while he pulled up all he could recall on Praxian erotic material and if Enforcers had their own quirks. It reminded him quickly why Prowl had said it wouldn't be easy. Most porn he could recall was of three and every single one had them either face to face or back to chest. Limited oral, but a lot of kissing, optic contact and touching around the helm.

Three wasn't an option right now so that was immediately shelved. Remembering what seemed to have worked earlier, Jazz pulled away from the valve and went back to rubbing the edges with his fingers while staring up at Prowl. ~Now that you're ready for me, we've got possibilities to explore. Maybe for a start I should stretch you out beneath me and let you feel my frame pressed against your doorwings while my spike fills your valve?~

The shiver was full frame and rippled across the hardline with a shot of molten heat marked more arousal than all the physical attention combined.

~Yes,~ Prowl's engine gave a hard rev as he squirmed, eager to roll over and feel a mech against his back.

Jazz shifted back away from Prowl and watched him rearrange himself on the berth. Once Prowl was settled in place, Jazz couldn't resist taking one last taste of that tempting valve before quickly exploring Prowl's back with lips and fingers as he moved up the Praxian's frame. Draping himself across the strong form beneath him, he bit lightly at Prowl's neck just as his spike slid into the waiting valve. The moan Prowl surrendered was sweet, but it was the surge across the hardline that really let Jazz know he'd hit something that really _worked_ for his current lover. The weight on Prowl's back, the touch to the neck, those were some serious kinks for the Praxian and they were gratefully easy to indulge.

~Hardline, spike,~ Prowl pressed the half-image, half glyph across the line along with a solid charge. ~Need to melt the breaks solid.~

Jazz slipped a hand down to wrap around Prowl's spike, rubbing his fingers across the tip before grasping and stroking in time with his own hard thrusts into the slick valve. He sent a series of strong pulses through the hardline connection while biting down harder on Prowl's neck. Not enough to do real damage but enough to let Prowl feel the pressure there. 

It was everything Prowl dreamed of with a single lover. The heat in his core bright and molten as he moved into everything at once. His doorwings arched up. It didn't matter that there was no matching set above him. He dropped his helm and arched his shoulders and neck into the denta on him and shuddered at how _good_ it felt, at how the non-interfacing parts spiked his core temperature a lot faster than the direct pleasure.

Jazz knew he couldn't fulfill everything that Prowl fantasized about in a lover, but he was going to do everything he could to make Prowl shatter beneath him and could see it clearly even with his limited processor access that Prowl was trying to help, focusing on things that worked for him rather than what was missing. Sending another series of intense pulses across the hardline, he brought his free hand up to grip Prowl's shoulder, putting all his weight across the Praxian's back.

Inside Prowl something cracked and surged into a cascade of pleasure that doubled when Jazz's hand moved from his shoulder to stroke his throat. Not much sound escaped the Praxian, but his field, frame and the hardline were alive with how good it all felt and he was getting close to the first overload of several he'd need.

Jazz's hands and spike and mouth never stopped, working Prowl's frame in time with each pulse through the hardline. ~Show me how good this feels. Let me feel you overload.~

"Yesss," Prowl gasped out as he shook and submitted to the pleasure with a roar that rose in pitch into the inaudible range while his powerful engine provided a deep counter-note to it. It wasn't enough, but Jazz had been warned and he knew. He pushed every joule he could over the hardline to delay his overload so he could continue to thrust, rub and bite all through Prowl's overload and keep pushing him into the next and the next.

Jazz continued to send everything he could into the hardline, pushing Prowl's systems harder with each overload. He knew he'd left indentations on armor and cabling alike all across Prowl's neck and shoulders, and the marks would be harder to remove or hide here. Jazz didn't really care at this point; he could feel the Praxian underneath him just wanted to finally push Prowl's systems past the point of endurance. ~More. Let me see; let me feel more.~

The demand seemed to be enough to make Prowl come completely undone and his overload roar was cut off abruptly when his frame shut down between one spark pulse and the next. Suddenly everything Jazz was funneling and doing focused completely on him.

He'd been funneling so much of his own charge into Prowl for so long the sudden feedback knocked Jazz into an overload that left him slumped over his offline partner beneath him. After his optics stopped fritzing, Jazz checked out the damage to Prowl's frame, especially his neck where the telltale bite marks stood out rather vividly. He ran gentle, exploration fingers across the damage to ensure it really was just cosmetic. As hard as he'd been trying, with as much as Prowl was getting off on it, real damage was a possibility. One he was grateful to have avoided.

That settled he unplugged and went to the door, only to find out that the doors didn't just lock from the inside, they really were coded to only one mech, and presumably their current owners. That was as far as he got before way too many of the military soldiers stormed in. Some herded the Decepticons into their cells, the rest focused on the cell he was in as it unlocked and the door slid open.

"Over there now," one of the soldiers ordered, pointing a gun at him and gesturing towards an area near the bars but away from the door. An area leaving a clear path towards Prowl's berth and the frame laying on it.

Jazz obediently stepped back and pressed himself against the bars, moving with as much confusion and fear as a pleasurebot would show in such a precarious situation. He still had weapons trained on him, but as he remained compliantly still and out of the way he was largely ignored in favor of transferring Prowl to a stretcher and hauled away. 

Once the soldiers had largely withdrawn one that was guarding him pointed to the door. "Into your cell."

Jazz carefully stepped away from the wall, moving slowly so he wouldn't surprise the soldiers. Once he was certain they knew he was following the order, he obediently entered his cell and waited patiently behind the locked door. He remained there, locked in, until over a joor later when the main door opened again and Prowl walked in. Jazz could just see the guards behind him, but they didn't seem like they were coming in. As he watched, Prowl made a slightly unsteady way to his room, opened the door and disappeared from Jazz's view. He heard it when the mech dropped to his berth and a low groan before Prowl went quiet.

A bit later the master locks on the cells doors clicked open. Thundercracker was the first out, as always. The central space might not be big or open sky, but it was a lot taller than the cells they recharged in.

Jazz opened his door and made his way over to Prowl's cell, idly keeping track of Deadlock as the mech stalked out of his own cell. Looking in at the Praxian and seeing the signs of stress he really didn't want to disturb him too much right now, but he needed to check on the status of Prowl's repairs especially since he'd been hauled back in for examination. Knowing that at least Thundercracker was listening in, he asked, "What set them off like that? No one's reacted when Deadlock and I fragged each other."

"Ever to a hard shutdown? To an organic it likely look like I extinguished," Prowl responded without powering his optics. "The medic was decidedly fussy until Wing explained it in terms he understood. It was what I needed though. You're good."

"Oh, yeah thinking I offlined you would make them mad especially with what it must have cost to fix each of us up like this," Jazz felt more than the slight awkwardness he was projecting; it was a slip-up he shouldn't have made but there hadn't been a better way to handle Prowl's need. "You were very hot and definitely a good time. If you're interested in more later just let me know."

"I will," Prowl promised without indicating if he actually would.

"Hay, you still got some in you?" Deadlock grunted and grabbed Jazz's arm to turn him around. "Had to listen to you; made me hot."

"For you? Of course," Jazz pressed up against Deadlock and wrapped a leg up against his hip, relishing the idea of feeling the Decepticon's spike fill his valve. Deadlock was incredibly dangerous, but he did know how to show a mech a good time. It was one of the few things they had in common.

* * *

Thundercracker finished cycling back online just kliks before he could unlock the door and headed out into the common area. He hated spending any time in the claustrophobic chamber but it was impossible to avoid completely. Like always, he was the first one out, but this morning he took the opportunity the quiet presented to ponder Prowl, who showed no signs of stirring from his berth. The Praxian's actions yesterday had more than confused him. From everything he'd heard even the Autobots considered him an emotionless near drone with no interest in any sort of social life. Yet his first actions in this imprisonment included grabbing a pleasurebot he'd just met and willingly fragging into a hard shutdown. It sounded like something Deadlock might do. Nothing about this situation made sense unless the time as a slave had affected him on a far deeper level than Thundercracker's initial assessment indicated.

Movement in the nearby cell caught his attention. Turning towards the now stirring grounder, he said, "Shimmer, we need to talk."

The pleasurebot perked up and sauntered over. "Change your mind 'bout a roll'around?"

"No," Thundercracker couldn't completely suppress his distaste for the idea of interfacing with a grounder. He'd been alone for so long and missed contact with his trine and other Seekers, but the idea of touching a grounder like that was still too disturbing to contemplate. "I want your impression of Prowl."

"Seriously needy and a bit fragged in the helm," Jazz shrugged. "That was probably the first real 'face he's gotten."

"What do you mean fragged in the helm? If he's never bothered with interface before, why would he decide to do it now?" Grabbing the pleasurebot to help clean off his frame hadn't struck Thundercracker as an unusual decision. He'd had a few stray thoughts about how good it would feel to get his own frame properly scrubbed down, but he wasn't willing to tolerate a grounder that close yet.

"Said he needed the hard shutdown," Jazz shrugged but compliantly followed Thundercracker's lead. "Not exactly a normal request, ya know."

Thundercracker pondered that statement for a klik while splitting his attention between watching the offline Praxian and the pleasurebot. Why would the tactician require such a hard shutdown? One strong possibility came to mind, something he knew he himself might have after all the crashes and injuries he'd gone through as a living target. "No, that's not a normal request. Did he show signs of processor damage when you interacted with him?"

"Processor damage?" Jazz played dumb and ignorant. "Not sure I'd know it if I saw it. Not like I know the mech."

"No, if you have no knowledge of his reputation then it wouldn't be something you would recognize," Thundercracker almost sighed in frustration. Having that particular Praxian in here with him was a potential time bomb; now he had to worry that Prowl would act unpredictably. It was like trying to imagine an unstable Soundwave. "He is notorious for being logical, calculating and unfeeling."

"Unfeeling? No way," Jazz shook his helm. "Mech ran _hot_ , but you heard that."

"Yes, I was forced to hear the results of your actions," Thundercracker grumbled. Why was he having to endure grounders pleasuring each other when he had no respite of his own? "Deadlock is consistent with what I remember. I have no personal experience or reputation to compare you to, but your behavior fits your profession. This doesn't fit with anything I have ever heard about Prowl. That very inconsistency is potentially dangerous."

"He didn't say much about his time here. Maybe he was just discreet back home," Jazz suggested. "Wouldn't be my first client that ran hot in private and played cold in public." He paused. "Though if that's true, his lover was pathetic."

Now he was actually talking to a grounder pleasurebot about another grounder's interfacing life. How far he had fallen. Still, this was his only real source of information about Prowl, so he continued, "Maybe that is the case, but if he was consistent with his reputation before then processor damage might explain the radical change in his behavior. You are the least experienced in combat, and you have already demonstrated a willingness to follow him into his cell, an area you cannot escape if he locks it. If he becomes dangerous you are the most likely to be at risk. Let me know if you detect any changes in his behavior."

Jazz cycled his optics and widened them as if this was the first time it had occurred to him that it might be dangerous. Then he nodded slowly. "I will. He doesn't have any of the usual markers, but I'll watch close."

"Usual markers?" Thundercracker raised an optic ridge even as he realized that yes, picking out mecha who were dangerous would be a survival skill for a pleasurebot, especially in war.

Jazz motioned to Deadlock, who was finally rousing on the scheduled promise of fuel. "I'd never go into a room with him. Not even my own."

Thundercracker watched Deadlock stalk out of his cell and head towards them, "Although he is unlikely to permanently offline his only interface partner it is not a risk most would be willing to take."

Jazz nodded and moved over to Prowl's cell door and whistled enticingly. Prowl's engine growled at him, but the Praxian began to rouse so Jazz remained outside of grabbing distance on the far side of the bars. When Prowl finally looked at him blearily he smiled. "Hay there. Fuel's coming soon. Only time today."

Prowl grunted, grumbled, but wearily hauled himself to his pedes. "How much fuel?"

"Deadlock and I get half a cube each. Thundercracker gets a full cube. It's good rations for doing nothing," Jazz told him.

Deadlock grunted at the mention of fuel and kept watching Prowl, noting his slow reactions and moments. Easy pickings. "Good rations and little to burn them on besides interfacing and sparring. You want a fight, Autobot?"

"Only if I choose the weapons," Prowl glared at the warrior that even Sunstreaker was wary of as he walked stiffly from his room.

Deadlock grinned not at all disturbed by Prowl's glare, "Not many weapons in here right now. You want to go at it hand to hand?"

"Processor to processor," Prowl's look turned as viscous as Deadlock's could be. "Winner's the one that can still move at the end."

"Sounds good. I look forward to shredding you," It wasn't the type of combat Deadlock preferred, but he wasn't going to back down from some Autobot. Besides, this way their masters wouldn't realize what was happening and jump in to stop it.

"Fuel's in five," Jazz said to distract them, maybe avoid the fight completely. He wasn't sure how much training Prowl had in assault or defense, but he was absolutely sure that Prowl had the raw processor power to tear Deadlock to complete shreds and as a high-value officer he did have some of the better firewalls and hacking countermeasures available. Prowl's look said he knew much the same.

"Fuel first; fight later," Deadlock turned his attention to their incoming fuel. He was just so bored; there was nothing to do but stare at walls and interface. At least in the pits he got to fight and kill things.

"Agreed," Prowl nodded and focused on the small service drone that had just entered through an opening in the main door. It had four containers of energon sitting on its back, one of which was larger than the others.

"If you break it we don't get energon tomorrow," Thundercracker glared at Deadlock, clearly remembering an earlier incident.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," the warrior growled at him and grabbed one of the smaller cubes.

Prowl was there next and picked up the remaining two smaller cubes before handing one to Jazz and stepping back so Thundercracker could get his without being too close to a mech well known for wanting to rip his wings off.

The courtesy brought an odd look from Thundercracker before he picked up his own cube and stepped away from the drone, which turned and left the room. Addressing the Praxian, he nodded towards the departing drone, "It will be back in a groon to collect the empty cubes. If we don't give them all back, we will miss that much energon tomorrow."

"Understood," Prowl dipped his doorwings in a polite thanks for the information and focused on the fuel his systems were screaming for. 

Thundercracker waited until Prowl had taken his first sip before nodding towards a pair of simple benches relatively near each other, "Those are the most tolerable for winged frames." With that, he walked over and sat down on the larger of the two, waiting to see what Prowl would do next.

There was a pause as Prowl considered him over the energon, then walked over and sat across from him. At this range Thundercracker couldn't hide his wary confusion and Prowl could do very little to hide that he still felt scrambled but was actually in good physical shape.

"You want to talk?" Prowl asked.

Blunt and straightforward was something Thundercracker could handle right now, especially since it did little to remind him of his missing trinemates, "Yes, this situation has all of us forced together in this confined space. I can tell you are still recovering, but I have some concerns that I would like to address."

"I will not promise to address anything, but I will always be open to communication," Prowl told him with the same even tone. "We are in a situation of having a mutual enemy."

"Yes, we do. I would love to show them what it feels like to be shot to pieces," Thundercracker rumbled, remembering the agony he'd endured for so long. "Is that why you haven't tried to rip my wings off yet?"

"No, that is why I've been civil with you so far. I haven't attempted to rip your wings off because I calculate a negative impact on my survival, and a very low probability of being able to do so at this time," Prowl laid it out as bluntly as he ever did.

Thundercracker thought about that statement for a moment, but it really wasn't that much different than coexisting with Astrotrain or any of the other more violent Decepticons, "I can work with that until we find a way off this cursed planet. How long has it been since you saw Cybertron?"

"Between one and two vorns by my best estimate. My chronometer didn't work for some time," Prowl admitted. "You?"

Thundercracker sighed, "I have no real estimate. They kept me in stasis when they weren't shooting at me, and my chronometer was never high on their repair lists. Deadlock has been here long enough he doesn't know when I disappeared."

"Your last reported sighting by Autobot records was a vorn and a half before I was taken," Prowl offered. "Long enough it was noticed but not so long to become a priority with both your trinemates still in the air."

Thundercracker gave a small wing dip, "Thank you, the missing time has been an irritant for me. You said you had only an estimate due to damage? How severely were you injured? They rebuilt my frame many times after shooting me down with missiles and test planes."

"Physically, very little by internal records. Most of the damage was for lack of energon and maintenance and has now been repaired. The initial attack knocked my processors off line. They were only reconnected when I was brought here," Prowl simplified the truth.

Thundercracker felt a bit of sympathy at the injury; at least now he had an explanation for some of Prowl's recent behavior. Hopefully the damage wouldn't impede the tactician's ability to help get them out of this cage, "Spending any period of time with that sort of damage would be difficult; I am pleased to see that you seem to have come through it intact. It does make me even more puzzled about this group; they most likely didn't know about your capabilities before they purchased you. We have a front liner, a pleasurebot, a Seeker and a mech who appeared to have limited intellectual capability. We have almost nothing in common. It makes no sense as a fighting squad. Are they expecting me to supply air support for the three of you?"

"From the little I know, they require all members of this group to have a spark. They have a mech under their control that said his master required him to point out Cybertronians, though he did not know why. We are in a military base and there is an assumption that this is a military program of some kind. Given Shimmer's rebuild I'd agree that some kind of soldier program is a reasonable first assumption," Prowl rattled off what he knew. "Wing, the slave tasked with identifying Cybertronians, did not know more. However, as each of us was brought in separately it is a reasonable assumption to me that the four of us are not the entire project. They seem to be intent on introducing one at a time to ensure some level of group comparability before introducing the next variable. I would not expect to learn more about their intentions until the group is complete enough to begin active testing or training."

"Then we should be learning something soon since there is only one cell currently empty," Thundercracker took a long drink of his energon, carefully avoiding looking up at the ceiling. "The only good thing I see about this is that I will finally be able to see the sky again."

"And not be immediately shot down," Prowl couldn't quite hide that he felt sympathy for the Seeker, or understand, to a degree, just how much he needed to fly.

Thundercracker couldn't hide a shutter as memories of crashes tried to push forward in his processor. Forcing them back, he tipped his cube slightly towards Prowl, "Hopefully you will be able to drive as well."

"It would be welcome," Prowl acknowledged and stood with his empty cube with the little flat roll-around came back. "We should soon know much more."

"Yes," Thundercracker placed his own empty cube on the roll-around drone as Deadlock stomped towards the pair. Privately he didn't expect this fight to last very long, but he was interested in seeing the outcome.

Deadlock stopped just out of reach of the pair and snarled, "Gonna give up now, Autobot?"

"Never," Prowl rumbled right back and motioned to the couch. "Have a seat, Decepticon."

Jazz hovered as close as he could convince himself Shimmer would get and wanted to be a lot closer.

Deadlock puffed up his armor briefly at the order; the tactician hadn't done anything to warrant obedience from him. Still, the was a processor fight, so he sat down facing the Praxian and took the offered cable before shoving his over. They plugged in almost in synch and Deadlock kept his shields up as strong as he knew how to make them. Even as he did so he understood what the power rating of what he was plugged into meant in broad terms.

He was massively outclassed.

That didn't mean he'd lose.

He'd fought mechs physically bigger than him and taken them down even if he got nearly scrapped in the process; this was just going to be more of the same. Keeping his own defenses shored up, he struck out at Prowl trying to draw him out and see how he'd respond.

The first volley bounced off Prowl's defenses like it was a stun blaster against a metrotitan. The pause came with a calculating look and abruptly Prowl's processor seemed to unfold into Deadlock's. Defenses vaporized, crumbled and were crushed in every direction and the Praxian smiled. 

This was starting to feel like he'd actually challenged a metrotitan, but Deadlock hadn't gotten this far without some serious pain. Since his defenses were destroyed he focused and threw everything he had at the tactician, refusing to just give up even though he knew he was outclassed. He actually felt approval mixed in with amusement as Prowl neatly block the assault without a hint of effort and continued to take over Deadlock's processors. Despite the takeover, Prowl didn't seem to be trying to _do_ anything.

As he lost control of his own processor old feelings of helplessness started to surface, but Deadlock shoved them ruthlessly back where they belonged and kept trying to fight, striking ineffectively at what he knew was a superior foe. He squirmed and struggled as Prowl's awareness ghosted through him, reading without changing. It was so much like Soundwave's reputation it began to link the two mechs in Deadlock's mind and he knew it was a _bad thing_ even as Prowl seemed to be both annoyed and impressed by it.

It was only at that moment that Deadlock realized he was getting information as well as giving it up. Well, if he couldn't defeat Prowl on this level maybe he could at least get something useful out of this fight. Dropping the futile attempt to attack, Deadlock focused on absorbing the information slipping into his processor trying to learn everything he could about the tactician. It was frustrating to be this passive, but informative. He still tried to keep his firewalls up but no longer lashed out when they fell. Instead he assessed the intellect, the pragmatism ... and oh yes, some serious code or physical damage. Prowl suited his reputation, but he was damaged and limping at the moment. Not that useful to Deadlock, but potentially useful in trade to someone.

Everything in Deadlock's processor stilled, as did the one against his. The Decepticon tensed, familiar with the buildup of an assault about to happen, then forced himself to relax to best survive it.

The assault came just as fast as the breaching, rewriting swaths of code before it stopped just as suddenly with Prowl's screech of intense pain and everything snapped back to its original state and the connection was severed.

Disoriented by the sudden separation and what should have been a devastating injury, it took Deadlock a several of nanokliks to shift his focus back to their cage and the others around him. Deadlock knew neither of the other Cybertronians would have tried to intervene, and he also had to privately admit that he wouldn't have succeeded in stopping Prowl no matter what he did. Looking over at Prowl, who was still cursing rather impressively, he asked, "What the Pit happened? I know I didn't do that."

"Slave code has a clause against harming each other as well as our masters," Prowl spat.

Deadlock stared at Prowl for a long moment in disbelief before blurting out, "You mean we can't even fight each other? What the pit do they expect us to do in here frag all day?"

Thundercracker ignored Deadlock's outburst and made an observation, "The clause didn't activate immediately."

"Because its definition of harm didn't include scrapping his firewalls or reading what was behind them," Prowl grumbled as he unplugged them and coiled his cable into place. "By my assessment, we can spar, but not fight."

"How sure are you?" Thundercracker asked cautiously.

"A long lifetime being directed by the strongest compliance code legal in the empire. I'm sure," Prowl said with a twitch. "This one's stop feature is fairly kind, all things considered."

"At least they seem to have left us the option of sparring to keep in fighting shape," Thundercracker grudgingly admitted after considering this new information. "It would be intensely frustrating to be slapped down every time we actually hit each other in a training bout."

"Agreed," Prowl said as he stood and shook his frame out to settle himself from the sharp shock and pain-sensation he'd experienced. "Intent seems to be the key. If damage wasn't the point, we can probably do it. Does anything typically happen before the next energon delivery?"

"Not typically," Thundercracker glanced briefly at the still grumbling Deadlock. "They've left us alone for the most part unless a new Cybertronian is being added to the collection. We've all been taken to the repair bay for an examination, but that typically happens after an orn or two to let the new modifications settle."

Prowl flicked his doorwings in understanding and turned towards his cell. "Then I am going to recharge until then. Self repair still has a lot of work to do."

"Rest well," Thundercracker dipped his wings slightly at the retreating back before going back to ignoring Deadlock's grumblings.

* * *

Wing knelt in the center of the room, using the remaining time before his master returned to meditate and try to settle his thoughts. His time on this base had been more unsettling than anything else he had experienced as a slave. His old masters had treated him as an intelligent, valuable servant, talking to him and asking him to do things. His new master was more abrupt and distant; she preferred silence broken only by sharp orders. Still, he expected that with time he would prove his worth to her, and he held out some hope that she might be the one to free him. After all, she currently had no offspring and seemed disinclined to seek out a potential sire or utilize any of the other options available. He wasn't a valuable inheritance to give to her creations. If she kept him, he would transfer to a sibling or younger cousin most likely. 

He worked to clear both thoughts from his processors. It didn't matter. Time would tell and he would serve until that time.

Kliks passed and Wing settled into the present once more, relaxing fully before the door opened.

"Wing. With me," her order was no less sharp than usual, but it flowed off Wing as easily as the H2O precipitation of this world did.

He would continue to serve her as loyally as he had served all his masters. Falling in step behind her, he followed her down the hallway towards the repair bay. Perhaps she wanted him to confirm another Cybertronian for her. The brief contact had been a reminder of his own isolation, and he briefly wished he could speak to them again.

When he took in the space he realized there were no mechanoids there. No one for him to check. Why was he here, then? 

His master walked over to the three repair specialists who appeared to be setting up equipment. Two security guards moved into the room behind him and stood by the door. Once she was with the others, his master pointed towards the medical table, "We already have a suitable subject. Wing, lay down on the table."

His small wings flared slightly in the shock of the order's implications. Even as he moved and settled his frame, his processor worked overtime, and half against his wishes, to trace all the fallout from those small words. He was being given to a military project. He wouldn't be a personal slave anymore, but the property of the government. The government would never free him.

His singular reason for behaving so well was gone.

Mechs who had survived a long-running planetary war would have skills that would help get them off this cursed planet. He was not going to leave them behind, especially since everyone escaping would damage the project and her reputation and he wanted to do that.

As the specialists strapped him down to the table and attached monitors to his frame, Wing couldn't help noting his master's impassive face. She showed no signs of regret at handing over someone who had served her family so loyally for so long.

The world went black as they shut him down into stasis.

* * *

Reality came back gradually to a medical boot and Wing suppressed a groan. He had a new alt mode that made zero sense, alterations to the slave code and a lot of extra mass. That was enough to make him twitch. Mass was the enemy of his frametype and worse for his coding. A stunt jet was to be small, light and overpowered to the extreme. He was no longer any of those things.

Even having anticipated some of the changes given what he'd seen of the other rebuilds, Wing couldn't figure out why so much effort had been devoted to such illogical alterations. Realizing it was pointless to try and hide his system status, he cycled his optics and looked around the repair bay, spotting the four soldiers and repair specialist watching him intently. Now was the time to keep their suspicions lulled and pretend to still be the obedient slave. So he remained still while the specialist ran his checks. It was a long time to lie there, so he sank into a light meditative state and remained grateful that they hadn't removed any of his swords.

When it was finally over he stood on command and followed the soldiers into the last empty cell while the four others, his new unit, watched with mixed expressions.

Waiting patiently until the soldiers left the room, Wing took a few kliks to center and settle himself before he opened his cell and walked out into the main area ready to officially meet the others. He knew they had already formed an impression of him during the brief moments of interaction, but he hoped they could learn to work together.

Thundercracker was the first one out of his cell, and the Seeker stared down at the smaller Aerial. "At least you have wings. Who do you follow?"

"No one now. I used to be a Knight of Light," Wing answered truthfully and heard someone's sharp in-vent from across the room. A glance suggested the Praxian, given the way his doorwings had jacked all the way up in shock. He returned his look to Thundercracker. "I'm going to guess that the war didn't go well for anyone."

Thundercracker was staring at him. It was obvious he hadn't gotten the reference but was cautious after the Praxian's reaction, "No, it hasn't, and if you'd been on Cybertron recently you'd know that. How long have you been here playing servant to these organics?"

"Seventeen vorns," Wing answered with a sigh. "Six generations of the same family."

"That long with only them for company?" Thundercracker flicked his wings briefly with a strongly repressed bit of sympathy at the idea of being isolate alone before shifting focus, "I assume this family is involved in this experiment since they had you helping them?"

"My prior master extinguished less than a decaorn ago. The project leader is his eldest creation and inherited me," Wing explained. "From my knowledge it is not the family that is involved, but this one creation as part of her military duties. I hardly ever saw her at the family residence once she reached maturity. She's military. They are not."

"Since she put you in here she obviously does not value you the way they did," Thundercracker rumbled, ignoring Deadlock as he sized up the newcomer. It wasn't like they could kill each other. "Do you know anything about what is going on here? We know we are some kind of fighting unit."

"I don't. I have a very strange new transformation sequence and updates to the slave code. And a _lot_ of new armor," Wing made a face.

"Dancer?" Jazz asked innocently.

"Stunt jet. This was an Ankmorian Light Jet frame yesterday," Wing grumbled. "Ten to one ratio down to four point nine to one."

Thundercracker looked down at his own modified frame with a grimace, "That will be more difficult for you to adjust to once we can fly again. My own changes aren't that severe."

"How many ships made it to planetfall?" Prowl asked quietly.

Wing hesitated at that before deciding that it didn't matter. Obviously this mech knew about the exodus and that it was multiple ships. "Five of twelve ships. Thirty eight thousand made it that far."

"Then a city has been stabilized," Prowl said evenly.

With a sigh, Wing nodded. "Yes. It was going well when I left."

"Why leave?" Jazz asked with the dumbfounded look of his supposed function.

Wing thought about how to explain his actions to someone with a completely different worldview, "I was a bit of a restless spirit and wanted to explore. Part of it was wanting to learn how the rest of our people were faring, but I never intended to travel this far away or be gone this long."

"But you said you used to be a Knight of Light. How could they welcome you back?" Prowl asked.

It was an unpleasant reminder of one of Wing's own uncertainties, but he had accepted this reality a long time ago, "Although I often explored and pushed the limits while I was with them, I am certain that they know that I would never leave permanently of my own free will. I don't know if I will be accepted back; I can only continue to live as if I will have the opportunity."

Prowl gave a hum of acceptance.

"So now that we've got all five cells full, think they'll clue us in on our purpose?" Jazz asked.

"Most likely. We've been a drain of resources up until now," Thundercracker rumbled.

"Does that mean we finally get to kill something?" Deadlock snarled from behind him.

"It depends on what they intend to use us for," Prowl shrugged his doorwings. "What is everyone's new transformation sequence?"

"An immobile block. Not really useful unless they want to block a doorway," Deadlock grumbled.

"Pole with a hinge," Jazz offered.

"Same here," Wing added.

"Also a pole with a 45 degree hinge," Prowl said.

Everyone looked at Thundercracker, and he shrugged. "A half-transformation. Limbs come in, helm goes down, but I don't go into a flight mode."

"Okay, I've got a hinge like he said," Deadlock reluctantly added while jerking a nod towards Prowl, "It's still stupid and can't move on its own."

"It sounds like none of us can move on our own," Wing pondered the various descriptions.

"We might move together," Prowl said quietly as he began poking at the new transformation sequence around the edges to see if there was anything beyond the main sequence to it.

"Moving together...they obviously have us as some sort of team," Thundercracker frowned as the words brought up a few half-formed thoughts about the strange collection of shapes and their five member unit.

"They were determined to only have Cybertronians in this project," Wing offered, hoping it would help the others figure out what was going on. "They passed up a number of other mechanoids while searching you out."

"Am I the only one who remembers what five to six mecha transform into with the correct coding and upgrades?" Prowl looked towards the two Decepticons.

"They're making us a gestalt?" Thundercracker nearly snarled in disbelief. He'd never considered the organics capable of permanently tying him to these four like that but Prowl's words made too much sense with the evidence they had. "Do they have any idea what kind of idiocy this actually is?"

"Probably not since they're shoving us together," Deadlock looked around the room, "Two 'Cons, one Autobot and two Neutrals. Slag, does that means I can't kill any of you?"

"Even without the slave coding you likely couldn't bring yourself to do that much damage," Prowl nodded, visibly no less pleased by the concept. "What I haven't found yet is any indication where the hands and pedes are, though it's possible they haven't advanced that far in their understanding yet and will attach them manually after we link up." He focused on Wing. "Have you ever seen a gestalt?"

"No, but I've heard of them from others who have," Wing admitted his own ignorance. "I know they can be powerful forces of destruction or protection. That would explain why they want to create one they can control."

"And it's easier to get five normal sized mecha than one very large one," Prowl nodded. "Easier to replace one component as well, I expect."

"Especially if they damage one of us during their research," Thundercracker forced his anger back down as he thought briefly about what this would mean for his trinemates. Briefly he wished he was back as a living target. This was a fate he'd never imagined. No one on Cybertron would dream of put a Seeker in a gestalt with grounders.

Another one of his former master's quirks while searching was making more sense to Wing, and he added, "This also explains why she ignored any nonbipedal when searching for Cybertronians. It's difficult enough to change our transformation sequences. An unusual form would make the process ever more challenging."

"A minimum mass would also be required. Very few with beast forms could function in a gestalt with any of us," Prowl said thoughtfully. "It will be interesting to see how they convince us to merge for the first time."

"Probably by just ordering us to do it and hoping we figure it out," Deadlock kicked a bench idly. "They've got themselves a little batch of slaves to play Primus with, and you can bet we won't be the only ones they do this to."

"True enough," Prowl huffed and looked at Wing. "Do you know why you were allowed to keep your weapons?"

Wing almost looked amused, "I believe that none of my former masters recognized that I still had weapons since so many Cybertronian frames have physical components that organics would confuse with my swords. I was also unwilling to use my advantage frivolously and reveal their mistake."

"So no sparring," Prowl said despite the question in his harmonics.

Wing tipped his own wings towards the group, "I would appreciate the chance to spar with all of you and work on our hand-to-hand combat skills. If there is a chance to engage in other forms of practice without revealing our advantage to them I would also welcome the opportunity."

"Deadlock's the one spoiling for action," Prowl motioned towards the mostly black Decepticon.

"Then at some point we should practice our skills, although it would do all of us some good to train," Wing had seen and teeked enough to know that the grounder would be a challenge to fight, something he had been missing during his enslavement. He also knew that interacting with the others would help him establish his place within the unit. They would need to work together if they were going to survive and escape.

"Come on, then," Deadlock grinned with a flare of excitement and backed into an open space.

Wing glanced at the others to see if anyone objected. Thundercracker was now sitting on one of the benches, no doubt still pondering this news. Prowl seemed interested in watching them to learn their skills. Shimmer looked nervous but determined to watch from just behind the shield of Prowl's frame. Since no one was protesting Wing walked out into the open space and settled into a familiar fighting stance. Wing hadn't been able to properly practice since his capture, and he needed to see how rusty his skills had gotten. Something told him that this opponent would fight dirty and without any definitive style.

Deadlock's powerful engine revved hard and he lunged for Wing, his movement painfully obvious but as good a place as any to start against an opponent you knew nothing of.

Wing twisted his frame out of the grounder's path, striking out at Deadlock's left flank with a solid strike as he spun around to keep his opponent firmly in his sights. Deadlock almost managed to grab his arm as he moved past the Aerial, leaving a few scratches on his finish. Wing's engine revved in frustration as his new mass threw his balance off making the fight even more challenging. This was another reason they all needed to practice. He likely had the most formal training, but he also had the most frame alterations too.

Deadlock whirled around and came at him again and this time Wing had a better angle to grab the grounder and use the momentum to throw him halfway across the room. Deadlock twisted around and rolled back up to his pedes as he landed, grinning wildly. "Now we're having some fun." He charged at Wing, feinting a grab for his arm while actually intending to tackle the lighter mech to the ground.

Wing grinned and moved into it, grabbing Deadlock by the wrists and rolling backwards to use their combined momentum to send Deadlock flying.

Once again he landed in a heap but climbed back up ready for more. Just being tossed around was getting annoying but it was definitely showing that the Neutral knew some interesting fighting moves. This time he circled around Wing wanting to see how he'd react when he didn't charge back in. They circled for a bit before Wing moved in closer in a lightning fast feint that turned into a retreat.

Deadlock was cataloging everything he saw as they went. Wing was faster and more agile but if he managed to get a hold of the Aerial his superior mass would work in his favor. Especially considering the Aerial was still getting used to the frame changes. Making his own feint towards Wing, Deadlock prepared for the next opportunity to strike out. He wasn't prepared for his feint to be met with a lunge forward that sent him flying towards the furniture.

"Hay, no breaking things!" Jazz objected to the near miss.

"Sorry," Wing apologized smoothly as Deadlock got to his pedes.

Deadlock looked down at one of the benches as a possible weapon but didn't really want to make the pleasurebot annoyed enough he'd say no to a frag later. Turning back to Wing he lunged for him again, still determined to take the Aerial down.

* * *

When the doors unlocked after Deadlock had been taken away, Wing actually beat Thundercracker into the central room and aimed right for Prowl.

"Why'd they take him? He wasn't hurt," Wing asked nervously, fidgeting like a youngling afraid he'd done something wrong by mistake.

"Probably to make sure of it," Prowl soothed him even though he knew less than Wing about these people. "They did the same the first time Shimmer overloaded me into a hard shutdown. Just because they've had mecha for slaves for generations doesn't seem to mean they understand us very well beyond the survival needs. I think we figure that if they don't shoot us, we didn't do anything too wrong."

Wing relaxed enough that his small flight panels unfolded slightly from their tuck. "Thanks." He turned towards Thundercracker. "Scrub your wings?"

"Thank you, I'll return the favor." Thundercracker was a bit relieved not to have to make the request himself. Sharing wash rack space and contact with a Neutral Aerial was much less degrading than with a grounder pleasurebot.

Wing smiled warmly and seemed to almost bounce towards the washrack. It was a different look on him, made him seem young and undamaged by the hard truths of life, and Thundercracker found himself surprised that he leaned into it while Wing worked the controls.

Keeping close Wing even as the spray soaked their frames, Thundercracker grabbed some of the cleanser and started to work on his own front. He reflected that perhaps it wasn't too much of a surprise that he wanted to be close to the little Aerial. Even with the mech's much longer period of enslavement it was difficult to find anyone that undamaged back on Cybertron. He had marks from slavery, but not war and certainly not from a lifetime of war.

It eased something in Thundercracker's spark and he felt his wings relaxed slightly and lower into Wing's hands far more than he expected. It felt _so_ good to have the field of another flier's spark mix with his own. It wasn't trine, but it was as close to kin as he'd had in a long time.

Wing was doing a thorough job cleaning up his wings and seemed to be enjoying the time close to another flier. Another thing that didn't surprise Thundercracker once he thought about it. Wing had been here longer than any of the rest of them and likely had been alone in space wandering for what was likely even longer.

Once Thundercracker's wings were cleaned up he turned and returned the favor, taking the opportunity to examine Wing's frame. It was as different from a Seeker as airframes really got. The wings were slender and folded along his back in a sideways Z. The only real indication he was an airframe was the heavy nacelles over his shoulders.

It wasn't long before Thundercracker's thoughts drifted from examining Wing's frame to enjoying the relatively light field mingling with his. No matter what signals said this was an adult, an experienced one at that, he couldn't help but feel that this was a youngling Seeker and that meant this was _his_ charge until the situation changed.

Wing made no attempt to hide the pleasure in his field as he pressed into the Seeker's touch. While the lack of build up proved he'd had access to better wash racks in the past, it was also apparent that he'd had only minimal assistance cleaning up for a very long time. "Thanks for the assistance," he grinned cheerfully as he finished rinsing off. "Now let's get you polished up."

Thundercracker's engine purred at the thought and he shivered in anticipation. "It's been entirely too long."

Wing took the polish and started to work focusing on Thundercracker's wings with a light but steady touch.

* * *

While Wing and Thundercracker monopolized the shower Prowl touched Jazz's shoulder and motioned towards Prowl's cell with his helm. Playing his part Jazz smiled and willingly followed.

"Tell me, what makes you molten?" Prowl asked quietly.

"I'm game for almost anything. Right now I want to feel you on top of me driving your spike into my valve," Jazz pressed a hand to Prowl's shoulder and began lightly tracing patterns across his armor getting nearer to his neck cables with each stroke. He was curious to see how quickly he could get the tactician revved up this time. From the spike in Prowl's field and rev of his engine, it wouldn't take much.

"I'm good with that," Prowl's rumble deepened as he twisted and grabbed Jazz's arm to push him onto the berth.

It was a move Jazz went with like the experienced pleasurebot he was playing and was pleased when they were face to face once Prowl was over him. White fingers stroked his hardline port and cables were quickly exchanged, yet both kept the interfacing protocols for that port off for the time being.

~Neck, doorwings, chevron,~ Prowl spelled out his top hot spots. ~I don't need another shutdown. Just want to talk privately.~

~This is the best way to talk privately for now,~ Jazz reached up and ran his fingers along the edge of Prowl's chevron and shivered at the flood of pleasure just that caused in Prowl. He hadn't had a chance to play with that spot while dropping Prowl into shutdown. ~Did the shutdown fix most of your processor problems? Sorry for getting you dragged off to medical like that, but you do seem more stable now.~

~It helped. I'm not sure I'd say most are fixed, but the top priorities are. My tac-net is fully integrated again, if a bit on the slow side. I believe the primary loss was to the AIs that used to run it and my Enforcer protocols. I can't rouse more than bits of them anymore,~ Prowl admitted to a loss far more significant than it sounded as he lowered his helm to lick along Jazz's throat cabling.

Jazz pondered that news while his own systems heated from Prowl's touch and weight above him. ~Not having those systems is going to make things a lot more challenging in the long run, but hopefully the variables getting out of here are going to be limited compared to running a full war. If we can make it back to Cybertron Ratchet can probably to repair the damage to the AIs.~

~If he still functions, he should still have copies,~ Prowl agreed as he shifted to support himself on one arm so the other was free to stroke Jazz's frame, them slip between them to teased at both interface covers.

~Ratchet's tough. If anyone will survive this war it's him,~ Jazz felt both covers snap open under Prowl's touch. ~That's not the only problem getting back to Cybertron. Deadlock and Thundercracker in a gestalt with us? Red Alert's going to fritz, and Whiplash isn't going to be pleased with me.~

~Right now I'm more concerned with slave code and this planet's network than dealing with the politics of our own,~ Prowl insisted, though beneath the statement was the uneasy feeling that came with being sure there was no going home no matter what.

~That's the one thing I'm certain we all want, Prowl. To go home.~ Jazz twisted his hips to press Prowl's fingers into his already slick valve. ~Deadlock doesn't even try to hide that he hates this place. Having listened to him talk I'm fairly certain Wing was just doing the same thing I was; biding his time until he could be freed. Thundercracker's in the worst shape mentally although he's trying to hide it. It's killing him to be trapped like this away from his trine and the sky.~

~I know. I believe he has a vorn at most. Likely much less,~ Prowl murmured as he fingered Jazz's valve and finally felt his frame respond enough to pressurize his spike without it being forced.

~Maybe that's starting to change; he and Wing are getting kinda cozy in the shower. Another flier might be the thing to help keep him sane until we can get outside,~ Jazz purred and licked Prowl's neck before lightly biting down while reaching around to caress a doorwing. ~Would you prefer me on my knees?~

~Not really,~ Prowl moaned as the rush of input almost shorted out thought in a wash of arousal-pleasure. He withdrew his fingers and pressed his spike fully inside the waiting valve in a practiced movement that came with a heated kiss and a hint that he wasn't entirely with Jazz anymore. Though his firewalls were still strong, he wasn't concealing that he was remembering someone he really did consider a lover to help.

~Let go. Remember him.~ Jazz encouraged softly when he was sure enough the scene remained the simple lovemaking it was now.

Prowl shuddered, sent a wave of wordless thanks and surrendered to the memories of several lifetimes ago, back when Praxus was a gleaming metropolis and Prowl was proud and sure of his function and place in the universe.

That thanks included allowing Jazz to see and feel at least some of what was in the memory, a gift Jazz understood better than most would realize. Not for it's intelligence value, there was nothing there that Jazz didn't already know well enough, but for the vulnerability the act of sharing it was.


	3. Five become One

Thundercracker stood by the bars, waiting for the instant he could unlock the door to release them from the confining space. He could teek Wing as he rose from the berth where they'd spent the night cuddling, and it helped calm him that smaller Aerial was here where Thundercracker could keep an optic on him. Once the door opened the small Aerial followed him out into the main room to wait for their daily energon.

As soon as everyone was outside their cells a voice rang out from a speaker, "Activate your new alternate modes."

"That's my former master," Wing whispered as he stood next to Thundercracker.

Prowl gave a reflexive glance up and nodded. "It's tall enough."

"What, we aren't going to resist this?" Deadlock snarled at them.

"And accomplish what?" Prowl faced him.

"There isn't much point trying to fight it right now. We need to know what we are going to become," Wing pointed out reasonably.

"Does anyone know how to actually link up once we transform?" Jazz asked as he poked at the coding in his own systems. "I don't really want to be a block on the ground."

"I guess we'll just blindly follow orders like a bunch of cowardly Autobots," Deadlock grumbled and fully activated the coding, transforming into what Thundercracker recognized as a leg.

Jazz was next, then Wing, and Thundercracker took a deep vent of air before activating his sequence. He was absently aware of Prowl transforming with him. It was strange feeling his physical systems link into the others as his compressed frame connected to the limbs the others had formed. Even stranger was the sensation of being aware of all four others as if their sparks had merged, and the realization that while he had some control, he wasn't really in control. Yet none of the others were either. There was a sixth entity in there with them all.

Prowl was fascinated. Deadlock was _furious_ and ... terrified. Wing was unsettled by all this but holding together nearly as well as Prowl and Thundercracker.

Shimmer ... wasn't there. The fifth of them, the left arm, was a presence as dark and twisted as anything Thundercracker had encountered.

~Yeah, yeah, get over it. You're gestalt bonded to _Jazz_ ,~ their left arm groused.

Jazz's reputation was one Thundercracker knew almost as well as he knew Prowl's, although for slightly different reasons. It was unsettling to realize that he had been sharing quarters with one of the more deadly members of Autobot SpecOps, but it was also an advantage they could exploit later. 

All that faded fast to the pain as something deep inside one of them snapped.

~What the frag?~ Jazz demanded as they all began to try and track what had broken.

~Thundercracker?~ Prowl was the first to trace the origin.

~Trine bond broke,~ the Seeker answered miserably. ~We will need to continue to keep your true identity hidden from our captors,~ Thundercracker insisted towards Jazz to distract himself from the pain.

~You mean I've been fragging an Autobot?~ Deadlock's surprise was evident even through his fear of this sixth presence.

~Yap,~ Jazz chirped happily.

~No matter.~ Prowl interrupted them and focused on the new presence, poking it. ~You are?~

~I have been designated as Saisho Tesuto,~ after hesitating for a few nanokliks the sixth presence answered. Even though it had dominance over them in this merged form, it felt young and under-developed to Thundercracker. Which made sense, given this was likely its first moments of existence.

A nanoklik later Thundercracker realized that last thought hadn't been his, though he wasn't sure where it was from.

~The reality of this form seems to be that we are all deeply linked. Not even quiet thoughts are our own,~ Prowl supplied.

~Wonderful, Autobots in my head and I can't get rid of them,~ Deadlock grumbled.

~This will let us talk without them overhearing us,~ Wing tried to sound optimistic.

~That will help us in the long run,~ Thundercracker tried to sort out who was feeling and saying what but it was difficult to track every stray thought. It wasn't unlike a spark merge, only without the pleasure.

"Saisho Tesuto. Move to the medical bay," an organic's voice ordered as a huge bay door opened in front of them.

Obediently Saisho Tesuto lurched the enormous frame forward towards the doorway. Even Deadlock stopped grumbling and shifted focus to trying to help control the gestalt's shaky first movements. A shift in balance almost caused a stumble, but they took a moment to brace an arm stump against a wall before heading towards the medical bay at a steadier gate as several powerful processors all focused on the same thing and used their experience to assist their merged frame.

"Stand there," an engineer pointed to a clearly designated line long enough for their pedes but not much longer.

Again their combined frame moved on command without thought and they were all too busy keeping it steady to worry about what was happening for a moment. The movement of heavy machinery and a large swinging object snapped Thundercracker into visual focus.

~A hand?~ someone asked.

~I believe so. They must need to manually attach them for now,~ Prowl suggested.

~Can't they do anything right?~ Deadlock grumbled.

~In the long run this is an inefficient and impractical design. Hopefully what are now extraneous pieces will be incorporated into our frames soon,~ Prowl observed.

~Great more extra weight to slow me down,~ Jazz grumbled lightly even as understanding flickered through the group merge acknowledging the necessity of having usable limbs.

"Lift right arm 90 degrees straight out," the same engineer announced.

Wing's limb moved out as ordered, and the hand swung closer to the end of the limb. There was a lot of fiddling movements by the organic crew before they had all moved away and the hand was released from the chains. The procedure was replicated with Jazz's arm.

~What is _that_?~ Deadlock gasped at the large object coming towards them at Thundercracker's optic level.

~Likely our helm,~ Prowl said pragmatically.

~I hope their aim is better than before,~ Thundercracker said uneasily.

The helm almost brushed Thundercracker's helm before coming to a stop over the large frame. The organic crew made some adjustments before eventually getting the helm connected properly and moving away.

~Are we going to have to go through this every time? They really aren't very bright,~ Deadlock grumbled.

~If this is their first attempt, they're doing quite well. Are you aware of how many failed attempts happened before Devastator was finally stabilized?~ Prowl asked.

~Their insistence on only Cybertronians for the program means they are probably working from stolen notes. The gestalt process proved much more stable and easier to replicate with only five gestalt components, and they seem to be following Shockwave's gestalt protocols. I should know, I've heard Starscream rant about Shockwave and his experiments after he studied Devastator enough to practically recite them in recharge,~ Thundercracker pointed out suppressing another flash of pain at the mention of his former trinemate.

~Someone's at least,~ Prowl acknowledged. ~Almost every modern gestalt is on the same five member plans. The primary difference seems to be in how they are selected or their sparks called. All that said, it seems unusual that they managed. I know just what it took to get our hands on Shockwave's notes.~

~No kidding,~ Jazz grumbled darkly about the agents those missions had cost even though he couldn't say he disagreed with its value. He knew as well as Prowl did just how much those plans had evened the war out again.

~I've got a few ideas where they could have gotten a hold of this tech. Their names are Swindle, Doubledealer, Greasepit or Gutcruncher to name a few,~ Deadlock muttered, remembering a few of the Decepticons willing to sell their own creators for a fast credit.

~Figuring out where they got the information is not as important right now as determining how stable we're going to be in the long run,~ Wing said.

~According to the records I have access to it was conflict between the gestalt and innate coding that caused most failures. One member deactivating another is the second leading cause, though only until Shockwave worked out how to make a slave coding rather like our current state so they couldn't anymore. Autobots never used it, since we did the psychological profiling and team dynamic testing,~ Prowl spoke more to talk than that it mattered what he was saying.

~Why is that, anyway?~ Jazz suddenly asked.

~Because adding slave coding to existing mecha is wrong,~ Prowl said, and all of them caught just how strongly he felt it.

~So you do have some fight in you,~ Deadlock grinned.

~So if we haven't been fried by morning, we'll probably be okay?~ Wing asked.

~Most likely. The failures I'm aware of all happened fast,~ Thundercracker answered.

Wing relaxed a bit, ~Hopefully everything will go smoothly for us despite the slave coding.~

While they were talking the organics had finished moving away from the gestalt. One of the engineers pointed at a large metal block sitting off to one side near their position. "Pick up the block."

Saisho Tesuto turned towards the block and bent to pick it up as instructed.

Deadlock sighed, ~Are they really this stupid? Even I know there are better ways to test the hands.~

~The hands, strength of connections and frame, targeting protocols, balance,~ Prowl rattled off what was actually being tested before he had to focus on what the combined frame was doing.

It was slow going, but it happened.

~At least we seem to be physically connected well,~ Wing tried to sound optimistic as they finally competed the task and stood there holding the block. ~Nothing's fallen off yet.~

~I read that as 8.9733% of the maximum safe lifting potential,~ Prowl supplied.

~Do you have any idea how creepy it is to watch you do that from in here?~ Jazz complained.

~Yes.~ Prowl actually seemed a bit smug. ~Roughly as creepy as it is to watch you flip profiles on the fly.~

~Only when I need to,~ Jazz got defensive.

~Or want to. Or find it useful for unsettling me.~ Prowl shot back.

"Put the block over there against the wall," the engineer pointed at the opposite corner.

Saisho Tesuto started moving over towards the wall, being careful not to overbalance given the new weight in their hands.

~I don't think Devastator could follow that order. It's too complex,~ Deadlock couldn't help but comment even as he worked to help keep them moving steadily. This order involved him, after all, as the combined form walked the three steps.

~He might manage,~ Prowl replied when they stopped walking and Saisho Tesuto attempted to put the block down.

Instead the object fell from his grip when it loosened as he struggled to work out exactly where and how to follow the order.

~Remain still until they give another order,~ Prowl instructed hurriedly. ~We do not want them to think this combined form is too smart.~

Thundercracker couldn't help but approve as Saisho Tesuto obeyed Prowl and remained still, waiting for more orders. It could have been because he was still learning how to use this frame and didn't want to make more mistakes, but it seemed to the Seeker that Saisho Tesuto was already learning to trust them. ~Thank you, you've done very well so far, especially given how little time we have spent together.~

~Thank you,~ the very simple glyphs came in reply. His voice was deep, young in the way of a sparked adult with little programming.

It hit Prowl hard enough to unsettle the connection point before he focused enough to recognize both the cause and its intended affect. Then his corner of the connection descended into a haze of grumbling that effectively blocked them from getting much from the unsettled Praxian.

~Well, that's a new one,~ Jazz hummed thoughtfully.

Thundercracker focused again on the youngest member of their group as Saisho Tesuto seemed uncertain after Prowl's odd reaction. ~This is a stressful time for all of us. Things will settle down as we become accustomed to one another.~

"Pick up the block," the same engineer ordered.

~Are we going to go through this again?~ Deadlock moaned as Saisho Tesuto bent to once again pick up the block.

~Repetition is a way of getting reliable results,~ Wing countered. ~Even if it is boring.~

* * *

"So glad that is over," Deadlock groaned and flopped onto the couch, taking up the entire length. Prowl had already retreated to his cell and locked the door.

"I think everybody is," Jazz agreed as he sprawled over the prone frame to Deadlock's surprised grunt.

"You interested in 'facing or just getting comfortable?" Deadlock asked from underneath the saboteur.

"'facing," Jazz grinned down at him.

"He's going to need some help getting through this," Wing said quietly as he watched Thundercracker as he stood off by himself staring at the ceiling. "Especially with the lack of sky on top of everything else."

"He won't let me touch him," Jazz could only shrug. "He'd rather go crazy than 'face a grounder. I can edit to make it easier, but I'm pretty sure he'd rather 'face me than let me plug in."

"I'll go talk to him," Wing gave a small nod to the others before starting towards Thundercracker. "He doesn't seem to mind my company as much since I'm an Aerial."

"Better you than me," Deadlock muttered while reaching up to pull Jazz down firmly against his frame. Finding out who his 'facing partner actually was had turned into a bit of a turn on.

"Just because you like my company," Jazz purred and slid his valve cover open. "And I like yours."

"You just like finally getting regular overloads. Fortunately so do I," Deadlock grinned and his spike cover snapped open as he dismissed the two fliers from his thoughts and turned his attention completely to his current partner. It wasn't like the Seeker wanted any help from him.

"Good hard overloads," Jazz agreed with a shameless moan of desire. As dangerous as Deadlock was, he was also incredibly simple to predict, distract and control.

Wing was briefly tempted to stay and listen to the light banter the mismatched pair seemed to enjoy. He might have even joined in if they were amiable to a third; it had been a long time since he'd had a good overload. Still, he knew the enslavement had been much harder on Thundercracker than it had been on himself and from all he'd seen Jazz would be more than happy to indulge him later if he wanted it. Wing also knew he had no real idea how much Thundercracker had counted on that trinebond to keep him sane and give him hope for freedom. A trinebond that was now broken.

"Thundercracker? Would company be welcome?" Wing spoke quietly as he approached. He was confident that the Seeker wasn't a danger to him. He wasn't as confident that Thundercracker wanted any company.

Thundercracker kept staring at the ceiling even as he shifted his stance and wings to give the Aerial a space close to his frame. "You are welcome," he rumbled, pain in his voice and misery in his field. He waited a moment before speaking again, "They believe me dead."

"I'm sorry," Wing reached out to offer a comforting stroke to the wide dark blue wing. "Will you continue, knowing that?"

Thundercracker continued as if he hadn't heard what Wing said, but he did press his wing against the Aerial's hand, "I almost expected to lose one or both of them during the war. Starscream is the Air Commander which meant we were always high priority targets, and Megatron's favor is always capricious at best."

"Yet all three of you survived and still survive. You can find them again," Wing tried to be hopeful. He didn't know how, but he felt it in these mecha. The strength of will, the strength of convocation, the pragmatic nature of survivors. All of them teeked much like the former military mecha he knew among the Knights. They were not mecha one could stop forever.

Thundercracker's field flickered with anger and a bit of concern as he asked, "What do you know of Seekers and trines?"

"A little. I knew a few well enough to call them friends. I've never known a trine to break without deactivation, but your trine is alive. We know that," Wing tried to think of what he'd been taught about comforting a Seeker in emotional pain. "I've only known of two breaks. Both trines were old and the survivors chose not to continue once their affairs were set to rights. They weren't warriors. The situation was nothing like this."

"Yes, we are warriors, and the three of us discussed the potential for deactivation early in the war. Skywarp and Starscream have no reason to believe I am still alive and will seek out a new third as soon as they can. The real problem is that I am the trine's Order," Thundercracker looked down at Wing to see if he understood the magnitude of that revelations before reminding himself that Wing wasn't actually a Seeker and quite possibly didn't understand Decepticon ranks enough to understand that Starscream wasn't an Order but took an Order's post.

"Something about that will cause a lot of problems for them," Wing asked as much as said, trying to pick out what he was supposed to know and fell back on the basics of Seeker culture that might be maintained even in such a long war. "Starscream shouldn't be a leader, because he's not an Order?"

Thundercracker actually glanced briefly over at the grounders' locations before dismissing his habit of secrecy. It wasn't like Prowl and Jazz could tell the Autobots anything from here, and everyone on Cybertron would know soon anyway. "Correct, the Order is traditionally the leader in a trine. It would be scandalous but possibly tolerable for an Action to be Air Commander given the stress of wartimes and impressive flying skills. Unfortunately, Starscream is not an Action; he is our trine's Vision. As such he should never have even attempted to be in combat let alone Air Commander. Now that our trine bond is broken every Seeker will learn the truth."

Wing nodded slowly, thoughtful about such an arrangement. It wasn't like anything he was familiar with but he could follow the reasoning even if he didn't agree with it.

"So unless they find an Order to take your place before it becomes well known, the others will try to force Starscream to behave like a Vision should?" Wing asked to make sure he was on the right track.

Thundercracker nodded, pleased that Wing was doing this well understanding an issue foreign to his experiences. "They would need to find an Order willing to continue the deception before Starscream beings broadcasting to everyone that he is a Vision without a trinemate. I can't think of a surviving trineless Decepticon Order they could locate in time to prevent that discovery. By the time I manage to return to Cybertron Starscream will be trined, stripped of his rank and no longer allowed in combat because it is too dangerous for him. Starscream will blame me for the loss of his freedom; my trine is forever lost to me."

"Even if that doesn't happen, they are still lost to you because they'll have trined again," Wing murmured and focused on the soothing motions of his hands on Thundercracker's wings for a few kliks. "What will you do?"

"Hopefully I can seek out another trine once we are back on Cybertron; I am a strong flier and have survived and endured much which are desirable traits. The gestalt connection will be an issue for most potential trinemates," he left unsaid but implied that the grounders would be the real problem, "but it is also a powerful weapon and protective force that some would find useful as an ally. Until then I have no choice but to endure. If they used Shockwave's protocols as the basis for this coding then I cannot work to deactivate myself since it will harm all of you."

Wing flinched. "I'm sorry. That choice should never be taken away. Even if I'm glad you won't gray on us." He paused again, trying to think. "Only Seekers can trine with Seekers?"

Thundercracker thought briefly about why he was being so free with information, but it was just to Wing and it was distracting him from his pain so he continued. "You have to have full Seeker coding to trine, so functionally, yes. Socially there were a handful of part-Seekers out there with the coding, but one would have to be incredibly desperate to accept one. Which amounts to me. I can't afford to be all that fussy anymore. I'll accept a Sierki if I need to," He grimaced briefly before giving in to the practical and looking at a possible future. "There are also some trineless Orders and Actions that would be likely to form a duty trine. It's not a true trine, but it would help my sanity anyway."

Wing processed that for a long moment before speaking again, though his hands never stopped. "How do Sierki get their coding?"

"From their creators, like all Seekers," Thundercracker snorted, though he didn't move enough to dislodged Wing's touch. "A true Seeker must be carried by a Seeker and only have Seeker sires. A Seeki looks like a Seeker, is coded like a Seeker, but isn't fully Seeker. They're basically undetectable now, but before the war when we could keep track of such things they weren't allowed to create. A Sierki looks somewhat like a Seeker but could never fully pass for one to another Seeker. Some still have trine coding though. Any who do could actually trine, if it was allowed or someone was desperate enough. Outside of Vos and Helios they were usually called Combat Aerials, since Sierki is a curse along the lines of perfuga, sine civitas or syci. They wouldn't want to be called that."

"Did the Seekers think your trine was a duty trine since Starscream was pretending not to be a Vision?" Wing wasn't certain what he thought of the attitudes Thundercracker was explaining, but it did fit with some of the odd comments he'd heard from the other Seekers he'd known.

Thundercracker twitched his wings in an affirmative. "I lost my first trine when Vos fell. Skywarp pulled me from the rubble. He was trineless too. We'd known each other vorns before, we'd almost trined then, and it didn't take long to trine. We met Starscream and made the deal while it was still chaos. I'd cover for him being a Vision, saying he was an Order. In exchange when the war was over and it was safe to admit it he'd remain with us as a Vision. We'd have one of the only ones left, and he'd create with us."

"So you will be moving on to your third trine once we find more Seekers? You've already proven your practicality with your deal with Starscream and are quite the survivor. I know several Seekers back home who would be interested in making your acquaintance," Wing pressed his field against Thundercracker, letting him feel both the Aerial's regret for his loss and his pleasure at knowing the Seeker.

"Back home ... where you're from? I'm not sure we'd get past the monster-deserter phase of the screaming match," Thundercracker was both amused and hurting at the truth.

"We have a different view of things back home. The Seekers I know would at least be willing to listen to why you made that deal with Starscream before condemning you for it. I can't believe that others wouldn't do the same," Wing offered quietly wanting to give Thundercracker at least a little hope that things eventually get better.

"You're either amazingly naive, or trying to be sweet," Thundercracker managed a shaky smile down at him. "I don't believe you are naive, so thank you."

"Not naive, just optimistic. It's kept me going for a very long time," Wing fell silent but stayed close to the Seeker, letting him draw comfort for as long as he needed.

* * *

Wing sat off to one side in the main room settled in a light meditative state, keeping track of Thundercracker's movements even as he ignored Jazz and Deadlock's friendly snarls. The pair had fallen into a routine, at least once a day riling each other up before 'facing each other senseless. As amusing as the display was to Wing, it had another purpose helping to keep Jazz's true nature and abilities concealed from their masters.

Prowl rose from his seat on one of the benches and approached Wing. As the Praxian came to a stop, the Aerial calmly asked, "Is there something I can do for you, Prowl?"

"Spar?" Prowl offered and asked. "It's been a long time since I could cross swords with anyone. Or stood against someone who still knows a pure martial art."

Wing didn't really have to think about it before standing, eager to see if the tactician would be a challenge. "I would also appreciate the opportunity to spar. Unfortunately I don't think either of us want to demonstrate my swords for our masters at this time. Perhaps an unarmed match would let us practice our skills?"

"Agreed," Prowl inclined his helm and doorwings slightly, but it was in his field that he displayed just how desperate he was for a good workout. 

Wing headed towards the clear center area and turned to face the Praxian, curious to see how skilled he actually was and which forms he preferred. It had been a long time since he'd had a sparring partner and finding a suitable one in his new unit would help both of them train properly. Prowl dropped into a defensive posture out of Diffusion with the smoothness of one both well trained and experienced and suddenly all three of the others were paying attention.

"Huh. Who would of thought he could fight," Jazz said as the pair exchanged a few opening moves to test the other's skill.

"Wasn't he an Enforcer?" Deadlock commented from his spot next to Jazz. He wasn't sure which one he wanted to see wipe the floor with the other since they'd both beaten him in a fight.

Having taken the opportunity to gauge Prowl's reactions to the first few attacks, Wing could tell that his own training in the Knight's Metallikato had been more regimented, but the tactician had enough experience to make this a much less imbalanced fight than the one he'd had with Deadlock. Ignoring the Praxian's doorwings as the expected target, Wing went for a strike at Prowl's right arm and found it neatly turned away. The return strike, the first Prowl made, was out of Crystalocution and while Wing avoided it, it told him that his opponent had more diverse training than the officers of the place he was used to.

"He was, but they don't fight. Do they?" Jazz displayed the ignorance of his supposed function. "I never saw one fight."

"Oh, they fight. So do Air Martials," Thundercracker informed him. "Still, I'm surprised a desk-bound Enforcer would have been bothered with even that level of skill as it takes time and effort to learn."

Wing knew from the merge that Prowl's mind was disciplined, and he wasn't too surprised to see he'd applied the same diligence to learning to fight. Wing threw a punch in retaliation but waited for Prowl's next strike, ready to toss the Praxian just as he had Deadlock. When an opening came, Wing let it pass with only a deflection, hoping that he wouldn't need to use so much of his own energy. Just because he could throw the Praxian around as dead weight didn't mean he didn't prefer the more efficient elegance of using an opponent's momentum against him.

Three more exchanges as Wing finally recognized the primary focus of Prowl's training. It was more wrestling; grab, grapple and pin with the intent to end a confrontation with limited damage.

"Prowl's a lot better than I expected," Jazz murmured.

"He _did_ survive the war this long," Thundercracker pointed out.

"Yeah, behind a desk. Tactician," Jazz pointed out.

"He was on the lines or just behind them often," Thundercracker shrugged. "I learned to be wary of his aim early on. So did everyone with sense."

"Shooting's not the same as getting dirty in a fight," Deadlock paid more attention to the pair sparring, trying to figure out what maneuver each would do next. It wasn't quite as good as getting his hands on one of them, but it was a very good starting point. He'd have an advantage the next time he went up against Wing, and maybe now that Prowl was feeling fit enough to spar, he'd get a shot at the Autobot.

Training to quickly subdue an opponent with minimal damage to either party sounded just logical enough to be something an enforcer would pursue, even one who spent most of the time behind a desk. Well, time to start throwing Prowl out of his comfort zone and see how he could manage. Wing launched a hard kick at Prowl's midsection fast enough that he connected, though he felt that Prowl had managed to pull back fast enough to avoid much of the force of it. It still earned a grunt and look that Wing recognized primarily as a warning he was about to get trounced. Only with Prowl it didn't come with the feral grin his betters in the order often included.

Just as fast as Wing moved, Prowl was in close and focused on getting his hands on the lighter mech.

Wing had realized early in his training that being pinned was a quick way for a larger opponent to take him out. As a consequence, he'd focused on learning how to evade such attacks. Just as Prowl reached for him, Wing grabbed the heavier mech's left arm and dropped down, using the heavier mech's momentum to toss him away while trying to keep him from landing directly on his doorwings. He didn't want to cause severe injury to his gestalt mate. Even if he'd been amenable to it, that wasn't the purpose of sparring. Especially not right now.

As it turned out Prowl knew almost as much about landing well as a Seeker. Even as he skidded he took it to his pedes and darted back in for close quarters. His frame didn't show it, but as he tried to grab Wing again the Aerial was close enough to teek that Prowl was elated and enjoying it, even as Wing was sure they both knew he didn't stand much of a chance in the long run.

As Prowl tried once again to grab Wing, the Aerial stepped back, latching on to Prowl's arm and shoulder as he passed. He threw his own weight and skill behind Prowl's momentum to send him crashing back into the ground.

"This is starting to look familiar," Thundercracker glanced briefly at Deadlock as he spoke.

"Next time it won't," Deadlock replied, still watching although he was now paying more attention to Wing since it was becoming clear he was the superior fighter.

"Wouldn't count on it. Wing's got a lot of training," Jazz murmured. Even so, he was watching Prowl and trying to work out how he could possibly have not known about this. Sure, he knew Prowl could shoot. He regularly cleaned up at the sniper competitions along with Bluestreak and Mirage, but it somehow never occurred to him that Prowl really was a fully trained Enforcer, and he began some serious spark searching as to why. Such a mistake with anyone else would be his end, or worse.

Jazz shuddered at the prospect of such a mistake with the likes of Soundwave or even his own elite agents.

"They appear to be finishing up," Thundercracker was still intently watching the smaller Aerial for any sign of distress, although he'd relaxed a bit since Wing was clearly a superior fighter compared to the Praxian. He relaxed another notch when it became apparent that knowing he was outclassed didn't upset the grounder.

"He's going to feel that one," Deadlock grunted as Prowl once again went sailing past Wing and hit the floor. It was never as far as Deadlock was sent, but Deadlock liked to charge. Prowl darted in. There was much less momentum involved in Prowl's approach.

"Somehow, I doubt it will bother him," Thundercracker hummed as the contest ended without a visible reason beyond Prowl's polite surrender.

Wing bowed in return and looked at Prowl with a happy grin as he straightened. "It won't take you long to catch up with me."

That finally got a real reaction from Prowl and there was no mistaking the pride in his posture. "Thank you. We need to focus on Shimmer first. He's the only one who doesn't know how to fight well."

"Uhm, I guess I could learn if you really think I need to," Jazz looked back at Prowl, concealing his own amusement behind a slightly anxious look. Shimmer might not know how to fight, which meant he'd have to play incompetent initially, but Jazz was looking forward to eventually testing his own fighting skills against Wing.

"Four of us are skilled enough to survive a battlefield and given this is a military project a battlefield is almost certainly where we are headed. It would be best if we could all focus on what needs to be done rather than protecting someone that shouldn't be there," Prowl said simply, playing the part of talking to a pleasurebot dancer. "Fortunately your training in dance will be of significant assistance."

"How's that?" Deadlock scowled.

Prowl focused on him. "To dance well one must know one's frame and the physics of motion."

"I guess that makes sense," Jazz admitted, keeping to his role in this little show for their owners.

"It will also make teaching you katas easier since you've already learned to follow routines and dance patterns. A lot of the basics unarmed combat is knowing where to stand and how to keep your balance while doing it," Wing offered as he walked over to the group. "Willing to try a basic kata?"

"Umm, sure," Jazz actually was a bit startled, but his focus was on how Prowl stood. The Praxian had moved back a few paces, clearing the sparring space, but his stance and crossed arms all but screamed judge.

"Don't worry, I won't let him bite you," Wing winked at Jazz with a teasing flick of his field.

"Well, it would only be fair to let him return the favor," Jazz couldn't resist the light dig as he stepped away from the others and standing in front of his new instructor. "So, now what?"

"Settle into a balance, pedes spread and knees bent," Wing began the tedious process of training a kata.

* * *

Wing watched as Jazz finally stopped deliberately messing up the kata he'd been shown. If Wing hadn't known better he probably would have been fooled by the amateur mistakes Jazz made during their training sessions, but it wasn't a surprise now given what he'd felt and learned about the other mech in the gestalt merge. Judging that sufficient time for this lesson had passed, he waited until Jazz had completed the form before saying, "Very good. You appear to have this form down now, and we should end on a positive note. Same time tomorrow?"

"So long as our masters don't interrupt," Jazz chirped and gratefully escaped what had become the sparring field. It didn't seem to matter what time it was. If nothing else was going on, somebody was using it for some kind of combat training, solo or otherwise. "So, care to get to know each other a bit better?" he purred as he stepped close and let his field make it clear what he meant.

Partway across the room Thundercracker's glare turned deadly, but he didn't say much past the lifting of his wings. A warning, though Jazz wasn't sure why. He knew the two fliers weren't lovers.

"I think that would be a wonderful idea," Wing quivered a bit at the idea of finally interfacing with another Cybertronian again. Cuddling with Thundercracker was enjoyable and the contact was helping each of them with their isolation issues, but Wing really wanted a good hard overload or two and the Seeker was not interested in touching him like that.

"Great," Jazz grabbed Wing's hand only to freeze when the rumble of thunder vibrated the very floor. "Umm, what's his problem?"

Wing turned to stare at the Seeker, taking in his near murderous expression and the confused look both Deadlock and Prowl gave the reaction. There was something familiar about the stance and expression, but he couldn't recall exactly what it reminded him of at the moment. "He can't be jealous of us. He's said he has no interest in grounders, and he turned me down when I offered to interface with him."

A low groan drew Jazz to give a quick glance towards Prowl and the hand that was spread over the Praxian's face.

"Thundercracker, did your creator protocols lock onto Wing?" Prowl explained the connection he'd made.

"Creator?" Deadlock sputtered, then almost fell over laughing.

"Fine, yes," Thundercracker huffed and forced himself to settle enough to stop the thunder, though it did little to mitigate his expression.

Wing knew it was likely he was physically older than Thundercracker, but it was kind of flattering that the Seeker had latched on to him as kin like that, especially considering his admitted bias against non-Seekers. While Wing took a brief nanoklik to regret losing a potential interfacing partner, he also wrapped his processor around the idea of becoming a stabilizing point for his troubled gestalt mate. Wing also had to defend Thundercracker's messed up coding by pointing out, "His reaction isn't that much different than your reaction to Saisho Tesuto, Prowl."

"I'm well aware of that. I'm also aware that my coding is fragged beyond repair," the Praxian muttered, then focused on Thundercracker with some genuine sympathy. "Will this be an issue?"

"No," the Seeker huffed. "He's not the first one to pick a lover I don't like."

"At least you know he's not going to hurt me. After all, it's not like he can hide from you for long if he does," Wing offered cheerfully before tugging lightly on Jazz's arm as he started towards his quarters.

"It's not like I could hurt you even if I was inclined to," Jazz added cheerfully as he followed along, eager to play with a new frametype for the first time in ages. "So, got any kinks?"

Wing waited until they were inside before giving Jazz a quick kiss, not wanting to taunt Thundercracker too much while his coding was still settling. After they broke apart he grinned, "Nothing that'll make me scream too much this time obviously. Like pretty much every flier I've met I love having my wings played with while 'facing. I enjoy pretty much everything, but I really need to feel someone close."

"I know the feeling," Jazz promised and it was the absolute truth. He reached out to stroke along the folded appendages. "I've never met a flier with your build."

Wing let out a full body shiver and basked in the sensation even as he pulled Jazz tighter against his frame. It'd been so long and already felt so good, "I'm an Ankmorian Light Jet. I imagine most stunt frames didn't survive very long since we normally have minimal armor. It's going to be a bit of a learning curve when I can finally fly again since I'm a lot heavier than I used to be."

"You'll do fine," Jazz said, and he was sure of it. He eagerly molded against the hotter running frame and did his best to continue to stroke the slender wings. "Did you really know Cybertron before the war?"

"Yes, I was created on Cybertron," Wing decided to go along with Jazz's questioning for a little while. It wasn't like the others weren't going to learn some of his secrets when all of their minds were merged with Saisho Tesuto. "I wasn't there for most of what the war has done to it. I imagine it is nothing like what I remember."

"It's nothing like even I remember," Jazz told the truth again and leaned in for a kiss that didn't take long to become heated. "Maybe you can tell me about the Golden Age sometime. The good parts."

"Yeah, I could do that later," Wing let his desire bleed into his field, letting it wrap around the other mech. Cuddling on a berth with Thundercracker had taken some of the ragged edge off his need for touch, but this was helping in a completely different way. Wing couldn't stop running his hands along the other mech, seeking out pleasurable spots along the other's frame. Jazz willingly gave them up, moaning and pressing into what felt best even as he used a pleasurebot's experience to make Wing tremble with the pulse of Jazz's field surging into him.

Jazz was definitely one of the more skilled lovers Wing had ever had, and the sensations feeding back into his systems were driving him wild. Even as Jazz drove Wing's charge higher with his touch, Wing enmeshed himself further in Jazz's field, flooding his systems in the welcome sensation of another's pleasure.

It felt so good that Wing only recognized that his charge was beginning to dance across his frame because of the way Jazz responded to it and the shift in the grounder's stance to support him while his finger motor controls slipped away to the grip of the pleasure.

Promising himself that he'd return the favor in a bit, Wing remembered to bury his face in Jazz's shoulder to muffle his shout as the overload ripped through his systems. Briefly spent but enjoying the feeling of the grounder's frame he pressed a kiss to Jazz's jaw as he murmured, "Give me just a moment to enjoy this and I'll be ready for more."

"Berth, and let me explore your back?" Jazz asked with a shivered moan as the last of Wing's charge leapt to his frame.

"Gladly, although I'd like to explore your frame some time," Wing pulled Jazz away from the wall and moved them towards his berth. He gave Jazz one more kiss before laying down on his front leaving his wings fully accessible to those talented hands.

"Happily," Jazz grinned and straddled Wing's hips. He leaned forward and ghosted his fingers over a hardline port. "Share your pleasure for now?"

Wing didn't really have to think about it as he opened the port so Jazz could sync with his systems. After all they were already connected in a much more permanent way and when they merged as Saisho Tesuto it was nearly a spark merge in intimacy.

Jazz shivered in pleasure over him and straightened to slide his hands over the slender folded wings. ~Do they do much to help you fly?~

~They help my maneuverability a great deal. I'm hoping they'll keep working just as well,~ Wing answered as he sent a pulse of the pleasure those hands brought back to Jazz.

It was welcomed and Jazz responded by focusing on teasing out the best touches to cause Wing to moan and writhe under him. ~You're so hot like this,~ he purred as the flier began to come undone under him.

Riding the waves of pleasure Wing sent pulses almost constantly trying to give back to Jazz some of what he was doing to Wing's systems. He still wanted to get his hands on that frame and watch Jazz lose control, but the grounder seemed to be greatly enjoying causing Wing to lose control. It was hardly a bad trait in a lover as far as Wing was concerned and he pressed into the warm, welcome and pleasuring touch and frame over him as he was lost in the building warmth and charge. Shuttering even harder under Jazz's skilled hands and opened his valve cover allowing Jazz access if and when he desired. His optics whited out as he cascaded into a hard overload. 

It was enough to draw a decadent, pleasured cry from Jazz as well, though he maintained enough sense to gently bring Wing down. He didn't maintain enough control to keep his penetrative array closed, so his spike rubbed against Wing's lower back and the scent of hot lubricant filled the air. 

~Spike me if you want to. I'd love to feel you fill me,~ Wing purred as he basked in the charge filling Jazz's field. He'd missed this kind of contact so much, and he wanted to enjoy round three.

~Thank you,~ Jazz gasped with more honesty than he'd expected. Even as he shifted to allow Wing to roll over and indulge his desire to see his lover overload, Jazz made a note to check his profile walls. The pleasurebot coding of his Shimmer profile was affecting him more than it should. As soon as Wing spread his legs invitingly, Jazz sank into his slick, welcoming valve and leaned in to kiss him.

Wing returned the kiss passionately while finally being able to indulge himself by touching Jazz's chest, shoulders and arms even as he pulled his leg up against Jazz's hip to give him more access. After so many vorns, he was going to feel another overload in his frame. Just the thought was enough to make his internals feel molten and focus him on rocking into the smooth thrusts of his lover.

"So hot," Jazz moaned between kisses. "Been so long."

"You just have to ask," Wing promised with a gasp, pouring all the desire and lust he was feeling into his field. "I'd love to do this again."

Jazz nodded against Wing's neck. His voice was lost to the crackling charge and the urge to drive his hips against his lover's and lose himself in that tight hotness until the overload took him.

Wing cradled the other mech against his frame as he recovered, enjoying the weight that reminded him he wasn't alone anymore.

* * *

Prowl watched as Wing drilled Jazz on a new kata. The mech had patience that impressed even the pragmatic old Enforcer in Prowl, but he found himself thinking of what to request of their masters to see if they could communicate desires. Something harmless but useful.

Wing nodded approvingly to Jazz once he performed the kata near-flawlessly. "You're doing very well, Shimmer. You're control over your frame is extraordinary."

Grinning at the praise, Jazz flirted back lightly, "I could always teach you how to dance if you're interested."

"Even without music?" Wing agreed happily.

"It'd be a lot easier with music, but we could manage," Jazz stretched, flexing his frame enticingly. "It'd also help us adjust to our frame modifications faster."

"Very true. Prowl?" Wing glanced towards the Praxian and ignored the way Jazz choked.

"I'll stay with katas and watching you," Prowl responded politely.

Thundercracker grumbled but managed not to vibrate the floor this time.

"Deadlock, you interested?" Jazz asked with a smile.

"I'd rather watch and get inspired for later," Deadlock grinned back lecherously and settled in to watch the show.

"Thundercracker?" Wing offered, mostly hiding his amusement at the grumbling. It had been ages upon ages since he'd had a guardian that cared who he interfaced with.

"Seekers sky dance," Thundercracker huffed, though he wasn't nearly as put-upon as he was pretending. Depressed, yes, but not angry.

"You'll have to show us some time," Wing added before turning his focus back towards Jazz, giving him the same respectful attention he'd give any instructor while the others watched and Prowl visibly plotted.

At some point during the dance lesson Prowl stood and walked over to the wall and scratched it. He looked at Wing, nodded to himself, and waited for the energetic pair to settle down before calling Wing over.

After thanking Jazz for the lesson and leaving him to Deadlock's welcome advances, Wing tipped a nod towards Thundercracker before heading over to join Prowl. "Did you enjoy the show or did something else catch your attention?"

"Their written language was not included in the download. Did you learn it?" Prowl asked.

Wing looked a little curious but answered honestly, "Since I was purchased as a personal servant I initially had a limited download, but as time went on most of my masters stopped caring how much I learned since it made me more useful. She knows that I can read all but the most technical of writings."

"So long as they can read what you write," he motioned to the wall panel he'd made a scratch in and the clear view the control room far above had of the spot. "I want to see how they react to a reasonable, seemingly harmless request. One explicit, one implied. Your armor is as good as mine. I can make a mark, so you can write on it."

Wing looked the wall over critically, noting the viewing angle and estimating the size lettering he'd need to make it easily legible. It wouldn't do for their masters to think they were just being destructive. "What do you want me to ask them for?"

"A dance pole, like what Shimmer used on stage," Prowl made it as simple as he could. "Hopefully they will get the idea to give us communication material so we stop scratching the walls for it."

"That would be useful for both entertainment and agility training, although they might not initially catch on to the training aspect of it," Wing chuckled for a moment before turning to the wall and carefully writing _Please give us a dance pole to use_ in large letters. "Anything else?"

"No. Now we wait to see what they do," Prowl tipped his doorwings in thanks.

* * *

When it was near time for them to be locked in a cell for the night Prowl walked up to Wing and touched his shoulder lightly.

"Yes, Prowl?" Wing looked over at the Praxian, wondering what he wanted to talk about so close to recharge. Thundercracker was doing better and didn't need to have field contact tonight, so Wing had been planning to meditate on what he'd learned about his new gestalt before recharging tonight.

"I hoped you would be agreeable to spending the night with me," Prowl came across as almost shy.

Wing nodded in acceptance of the offer, putting aside his tentative plans to make another connection with his unit. It was a cause well worth the delay. "Would you prefer to spend it in my cell or yours? Either is acceptable to me."

"Mine, then," Prowl managed a small smile that his field backed up far more clearly. "Is there anything you'd rather not do?"

Wing thought about the question as they walked over to Prowl's cell, "I don't want to test the levels of pain we're allowed to inflict on each other, but other than that I'm good with almost anything. You?"

"I prefer to avoid pain altogether. For both our safety it would be best to avoid hardline. Even now my tac-net is not agreeable to allowing you that close," Prowl apologized.

Wing made note of that bit of information and shrugged acceptingly as he followed Prowl inside, "I'm fine with leaving hardline connections alone for the foreseeable future. Perhaps the gestalt bond will eventually help settle your tac-net."

"There is a 93.9773% probability of it if current behavior patterns hold," Prowl smiled faintly with a flicker of self-deprecating humor. "While it's unlikely to lash out at you now, its temperament does make hardline unpleasant more often than not. Everything else that is pleasure is very agreeable however," he purred as the door closed behind them. He turned to face Wing and slid his hands up the Aerial's arms. "I like pleasure to be mutual."

"As do I," Wing shifted up against Prowl's frame and leaned in to press teasingly light kisses along his jawline and purred as Prowl tipped his helm to offer more. Desire flared brightly in the Praxian, a sensation laced heavily with a longing of a connection he'd lost long ago. 

Working his way up Prowl's jaw, Wing felt his lover submit joyfully to his attention and whispered, "It should also be fun." 

With that, Wing reached up and traced a finger along Prowl's chevron while his other hand slipped around the Praxian's back to rest just under his doorwings. They fluttered eagerly and Prowl tipped his face to claim a kiss that was soft and exploratory but oh so warm. Wing's glossa darted out to trace Prowl's lip plates and felt them open willingly so their glossae could caress and tease. As they moaned and tasted each other, Wing's hand moved from the chevron down to Prowl's shoulder, getting a firm grip as his other hand traced Prowl's doorwing.

The way Prowl arched into the touch it was with a shiver and moan of long abstinence that wasn't entirely by choice. Pressing one thigh up against Prowl's panel, he purred, "You want my spike or valve first? I'd love to feel you under or over me."

"Over you," Prowl groaned as his spike panel snapped open and it extended against Wing's thigh.

Wing's own panels snapped open and he rubbed his own extending spike against Prowl's before letting go of his shoulder, reaching down and stroking both of their spikes. It was so good to finally have access to real lovers after so many vorns. To have that feeling echoed back across mingled fields was a blessing. Jazz had been fun, but Prowl _needed_ this attention in the same way Wing did.

Prowl drew Wing forward, their touching causing both of them to shiver and moan. The short path to the berth was a blur, even the gentle way Prowl guided him down. It wasn't until Wing felt the fullness between his legs as Prowl pressed into his slick, ready valve that he checked back into reality to enjoy it fully. Wing wrapped one leg up around Prowl's hip and arched into the Praxian's thrust. With a moan of pleasure he reached out for those doorwings again and set about tracing every seam and joint he could find. 

Prowl moaned against Wing's neck in response, flooding his field with how good this felt, with how much the attention was welcome. Even as he soaked in the mutual desire to please and the pleasure it caused, Prowl did his best to return the attention with his hands, mouth and spike.

Wing thoroughly mapped the inside of Prowl's mouth as they kissed while his hands explored every part he could reach on the Praxian's frame. Enjoying the building charge he pushed his desire into his field and rippled his valve around Prowl's spike. The answering desire caused Prowl to shake and lose his rhythm for a few thrusts before he cried out with a surge of charge across his frame that pumped heated, crackling transfluid deep into Wing's valve and Wing's overload surged through him as he pressed into Prowl's thrusts. Pulling his partner down on top of himself, Wing buried his face into Prowl's neck and basked in the aftershocks rippling through his frame. After a bit, he nipped Prowl's jaw and said, "Ready for round two?"

"Always," Prowl purred languidly as he pulled out and reached between them to tease Wing's aching spike. "Would love to feel you against my back."

Trying to keep his charge in check despite the teasing Wing scrambled almost falling over as he moved behind Prowl. He took a brief moment to admire the frame beneath him before crawling forward while deliberately running his glossa up Prowl's back, directly between his doorwings. The entire frame under him responded, arching into the contact while the doorwings fluttered eagerly.

"Please," Prowl moaned, his frame trembling and face against his forearms as his hips nudged against Wing's spike.

Wing reached down and lined his spike up, deliberately traces the edges of the valve with his spike before slowly sinking into the welcoming heat. Prowl was just as slick as Wing had been and easily as eager. Despite the temptation to just drive forward Wing kept his control and waited until he was completely sheathed before drawing back and starting to thrust. Prowl's hips rocked back against each thrust while his valve squeezed, but it was the rapid flutter of the doorwings that kept Wing's attention and drew him to continue stroking them.

Blanketing Prowl with the lust in his field, Wing leaned forward, nearly draping himself across Prowl's back, as he sped up his thrusts. Doorwings, just like any wings, had always fascinated him, and he loved seeing how they danced under his caresses. It turned his insides molten with how responsive Prowl was, how much like an equal the Praxian reacted to him as. It was so much like a lover back home. Give and take between equals.

It was enough to make Wing long for the city he'd left behind.

Wing trembled with the building charge and drove deep into Prowl's valve, letting the spasms of Prowl's pleasure draw out his overload before collapsing on top of him, venting heavily from the excessive heat. "You are incredible," he murmured into the back of Prowl's neck.

"Mutual," Prowl mumbled in reply as he relaxed onto the berth and purred at the warm weight over him. "I've missed this."

"So have I. This kind of mutual enjoyment is one of the things I've miss the most from home," Wing noted how content his partner seemed to be and decided to remain like this rather than rolling over and spooning against him to fall into recharge. Planting a light kiss on Prowl's helm, he continued, "I've always enjoyed playing with doorwings."

"You're welcome to play with mine," Prowl hummed in contentment as the appendages wiggled. "Are there many doorwingers in your city?"

"We had a decent number of Praxians who chose to come with us when we left. They've been thriving and are all comfortably settled into the community," Wing curled one hand lightly around the edge of Prowl's doorwing and dimmed his optics. "I've made friends with several, but although we've had fun together nothing serious has developed between me and any of them."

"For lack of the connection, or something to do with being a Knight?" Prowl asked with a soft purr as his doorwing pressed into the touch lightly.

"Both. Those that are Knights I never connected with, and those that aren't... Knights don't often bond outside the ranks. Our lifestyle is very different from what most civilians want in the long run," Wing shrugged, accepting reality as he had always know it. "Don't get me wrong, I had plenty of friends and lovers, but I never really expected anything permanent to develop."

"Being content with what you have is more important than others understanding it," Prowl agreed easily, something in him letting go as he spoke to someone who actually understood that _duty always came first_. "It was much the same for me after Praxus. Civilians just don't understand how Enforcers exist. The only times I knew it to work out was when the non-Enforcer was either created to be an Enforcer's mate or had a function with a similar outlook on duty and time. It is difficult to explain the idea that one is never fully off duty to one who doesn't know it."

"Or that one has rules and regulations to follow which seem archaic or strange to the outsider," Wing said with a soft sigh as he snuggled closer. "Knights are held to different standards than the civilians in the city. The Peacekeepers know that we are under a different set of regulations and are accountable to the Citadel."

A soft hum was Prowl's first reply, largely a sound of his frame settling into a happy place. "How are Enforcers created now, without Primus to draw from?"

"There were a few who joined us in the Exodus who are still online, but most of the new ones come from those who choose to join their ranks. They are new sparks who have the desire to help or protect others," Wing offlined his optics completely as he snuggled in closer to Prowl and relaxed into the content field lapping against his.

"Rather like the military on Cybertron," Prowl accepted the path society had to take when cut off from Cybertron and Primus. "I do not think it is the best way, though I have accepted it is the best option right now. How are Knights punished for breaking civilian law?"

Wing reflexively shivered, well aware of the severity of his own actions in leaving and the price that could be demanded on his return. "Penalties and penances. Penalties are a lot like the punishments for civilians, though we spend more time doing the worst work in maintaining the Citadel of Light than in a prison cell. The primary difference seemed to be that Dai Atlas, our Sovereign of Light, is free to be as creative as he needs to be within a few strictures of severity."

"Sounds like the military system. There are basics, what you do the first few times someone breaks a reg, but if that didn't work I have a great deal of freedom to come up with punishment details to teach the rules with," Prowl's field flickered with the mixture of amusement and frustration towards the memories of such events. "Dai Atlas and Axe were still the leaders when you left."

"Yes. The city is big enough to have a governing counsel of its own so they aren't in charge of everything anymore," Wing purred at happy memories of such a long duty done so well. It may have set up the power struggle that eventually drove him to leave, but Wing couldn't fault the Sovereign or his mate in their success. It was in peacetime that he couldn't deal with them very well and that was more his fault as theirs. He should have been able to let it roll off him and he couldn't.

"What is a penance?" Prowl asked as they both began to drift closer to recharge.

"Mmm, repayment to the universe. Penalties settle the debt to society. Penances settle the balance with yourself," Wing attempted to explain and found himself met with understanding and a warmth of good feelings from the mech under him.

"It is not an unusual concept among the martial art cultures," Prowl explained. "While I was never among them I did study many."

"I'm glad someone understands, but it doesn't matter anymore unless I try to go back," Wing murmured as he slipped further into recharge.

"It matters internally," Prowl reminded him softly before following the Aerial into recharge.

* * *

Even though he'd acted somewhat distracted by Jazz each time Wing and Prowl sparred, Deadlock had carefully watched and cataloged the maneuvers each mech used. Wing's style was still a bit of a puzzle that he didn't want to tackle yet, but Deadlock had past experience that helped him figure Prowl's Enforcer training out fairly quickly. While he definitely wasn't stupid enough to accept a processor level battle again, he figured an actual sparring match would be a better chance to knock that smug Autobot on his aft. Especially since the tactician wasn't using most of the training he'd caught traces of during the gestalt merges. Then again, all of them were keeping every feasible part of their fighting skills hidden from the organics while still getting some action.

When the pair finally bowed and parted, Deadlock was on his pedes. "Prowl, up for a round?"

The Praxian considered his gestalt mate for a long moment, then inclined his helm. "Yes. To pin?"

"Sounds good," As he stepped into training area Deadlock took a nanoklik or two to scan Prowl's stance and look for a weakness. Deciding those doorwings were too obvious a target, he lunged for Prowl's right leg, trying to send him sprawling. Prowl was as fast as he was with Wing and managed to avoid the low tackle with a kick from the targeted pede to Deadlock's face. It didn't contain much force but it was enough to startle the warrior and give Prowl a bit of momentum in his spin away.

As annoying as all the throws and kicks could be during the sparring matches, this was still more fun than the stupid fake fights they'd wanted in the gladiator pits. At least his new gestalt mates were a bit of a challenge instead of dead weight. Trying to shake things up he decided to try one of the katas he'd seen Wing teach Jazz and struck out at Prowl. It earned a surprised flicker in Prowl's field as the move was blocked, but Prowl grinned at him with definite approval. For the briefest moment Deadlock saw Megatron in the face looking at him. The same manner, the same approval, the same expectation of more in the ready stance.

He tried to force down the desire to earn more of that approval from his opponent as he struck out again at Prowl's shoulder following with another quick strike aimed lower at his hips. Deadlock was determined to take Prowl down and wipe that grin of his face. A twisting dodge and sweep of an arm rendered both attacks moot, and then Prowl had a hand on his wrist and was twisting them around, trying to get Deadlock's arm behind him. He wasn't going to just go down like this. Deadlock took a chance during the spin and angled down trying to knock Prowl's center of balance off and get his legs out from under him. Maybe even flip him over on his back if it worked.

More than a bit to his surprise, it did, but Prowl's teek warned him that the Praxian had allowed himself to be flipped and a fraction of a nanoklik later Deadlock felt his pedes leave the floor as he was pulled down and sideways. In that moment he comprehended that he didn't have a mass or strength advantage on his opponent.

Slag it, he should have practiced more, but at least all his time interfacing with Jazz had helped him adjust to his new flexibility. So he grabbed Prowl's shoulder and went to twist the Praxian on to his back, trying not to damage the doorwings too badly as he moved. He cursed again as Prowl moved and he realized that of course a Praxian Enforcer would know how to keep his doorwings safe. The damn things folded down and they were rolling on the floor with much more equal odds of random damage.

It was Prowl's teek that kept distracting Deadlock, though. The mech was happy, almost excited in the same way Deadlock himself was.

It wasn't anything he imagined possible. A high ranking _Praxian_ tactician was a brawler, a good one that enjoyed it.

Deadlock knew he was also teeking as enjoying this fight. Prowl would never be as fun as Sideswipe or one of the Wreckers during a fight, but he was turning out to be someone Deadlock was actually enjoying sparring against. As they rolled over each other again, he tried to wrap an arm around Prowl's neck to get him in a headlock. Instead Prowl threw his weight forward, rolling Deadlock to his chest and got one knee on the far side of the Decepticon's back so he could use his mass to keep the mech pinned no matter which way he rolled.

After some futile thrashing and twisting, Deadlock reluctantly slapped the ground and conceded, "You win; this time." Then he waited for Prowl's reaction, especially since it was the second time the Praxian had beaten him.

"I look forward to our next match," Prowl responded and stood, then offered a hand to Deadlock. "We will teach you some of our moves if you ask," he added, his field smooth, pleased and relaxed.

No harsh words or taunting because he failed yet again? The Autobot's offer was probably because they'd need every advantage to get out of here. Well, no way was he going to be the one to hold things back once the fighting started. Taking the offered hand, Deadlock grunted, "Maybe I'll take you up on that."

* * *

All but Wing had roused early the next day because of the activity in their common space. While they were locked in their cells organics had come in and secured something large and flat over where Wing had scratched writing into the wall.

"A writing board, perhaps," Prowl hummed. "To see if it stops us from writing on the walls."

"Hopefully they left us something to write with or it's not going to stay pretty for long," Jazz observed as he stared at the edge of the panel as the organics left. The cell doors unlocked a moment later. Deadlock acted like he was ignoring the new addition as he sauntered over and started on a couple of warm-up stretches in the combat area, but he made certain to face the others and everyone could tell that he was listening and watching intently.

Wing joined Prowl in heading over to inspect the panel as soon as they could get out of their cells. Would there be a message on it? The dance pole hadn't been installed but at least they'd gotten something from the communication attempt.

Thundercracker immediately left his cell, wings twitching as he fell into step with Wing. "I wonder what they would be willing to give us or let us do if we ask."

"We should go slowly. Begin after they have granted one request," Prowl cautioned him as they walked up. There was indeed writing on the board. "What does it say?" he glanced towards Wing.

"Write with that," he pointed towards a stylus-like object. "Clear with that," he indicated a rectangular object half the size of Wing's hand.

"Clear it and say thank you," Prowl instructed.

Wing obliged by wiping the board clear and then wrote _Thank you_ in the same size letters he had used previously. "At least we don't have to wait for them to replace scratched wall panels or worry about making mistakes when writing. That's a good sign."

"It is," Prowl nodded. "I'd like that language file you have transferred to all of us, but Wing should still be the only one writing. No need to let them know we're all literate."

"Agreed," Thundercracker grunted, moving away from the board as their daily energon was delivered. After picking up his and Wing's energon, he sat down close to Wing, quietly soaking in the other flier's more stable field while they consumed their rations. As they did, Wing offered his hand, data cable primed for a quick transfer. Thundercracker accepted it casually, though his firewalls and inspection of the packet was anything but casual.

Once the service drone left with the empty cubes, Wing politely excused himself and headed over to join Jazz in the combat area for another lesson. Everyone watched until a loud beep drew their attention towards the observation window high above.

"Form Saisho Tesuto."

~I'm starting to really hate that designation,~ Deadlock's thought was the first to spread in the merge.

~It is rather insulting,~ Prowl agreed.

~We believe that you should have a real designation that suits your personality,~ Wing focused on their youngest member, explaining the hostility they all felt when their masters used that designation.

~Will you give me one?~ Saisho Tesuto asked as he obediently walked towards the repair bay to have the hands and head attached.

~Yes. We will decide on a suitable designation for you/us,~ Prowl answered. ~We cannot make them use it, but at least you will have one.~

~I look forward to it,~ Saisho Tesuto said as he settled into position. He didn't need the engineers instructions anymore but continued to wait for them like Prowl had suggested.

~At least they are getting faster at installing the rest of our components. How long do you think it will take for them to be integrated into us?~ Thundercracker asked as they waited for the engineers to finish moving their head into place.

~Hopefully soon, I'm getting tired of having to wait here like this,~ Jazz grumbled.

~It may be dull, but so long as they are still this early in the project we will not be on a real battlefield,~ Prowl pointed out. ~Wing, have you ever been in a real battle?~

~A few, just before the Exodus. Before that there were many conflicts with raiders, though I doubt you would agree they were battles,~ Wing answered.

~Raiders don't really count; that's just skirmishes,~ Deadlock agreed idly as Saisho Tesuto started moving the box again. This was processor numbing but at least it was finally becoming a smooth process. Hopefully they'd be able to do something more interesting soon.

~While they would not count as large scale battles, it does means you will not be a liability on the battlefield. I've seen too many trained mecha deactivated in their first combat due to inexperience,~ Thundercracker added quietly, wanting to know more about these Knights Wing had spoken of.

~In that way, I'm experienced. I've been in and gotten out of dozens of conflicts with limited or no damage,~ Wing agreed to that point, then became uneasy. ~The last two battles I was in, just before the launch, were large and massacres of those who attacked us. They're likely in your records. Both were Decepticon forces.~

Thundercracker thought about past defeats. It wasn't something to get angry about, especially considering the Autobots in the gestalt, ~I believe I know which battles you speak of, although my trine was not directly involved in either of them. Starscream complained loudly that they would have been victories if he had been present.~

~I am also familiar with the battles you have mentioned,~ Prowl added.

That startled Wing. ~What Autobot forces were there?~

~Although we were not directly involved in the main conflict any large movement by the Decepticons impacted our forces and required investigation,~ Prowl explained. ~Additionally, several units engaged the Decepticons on the fringes of the battlefield.~

~I'd be surprised if there was a battle of any major scale in this war Prowl doesn't know about,~ Jazz spoke up. ~Or most minor ones, for that matter.~

~It is true. My function as an architect of the war effort meant that there was no such thing as irreverent information. I remember the launch you spoke of. Twelve ships, five of which had the misfortune of launching directly into a major space battle. Unfortunately several Autobot commanders ignored my orders to only fire on confirmed Decepticons. How many of yours were lost?~

~Three,~ Wing murmured. ~You're still angry about that.~

~Yes, though not in an active way. I saw the surviving commanders punished according to regulations. I still grieve that many sparks lost for no reason.~ Prowl acknowledged.

~Some would consider us deserters having left Cybertron like we did,~ It was obvious that was more than Wing had expected from the tactician.

~A deserter, by definition, must desert an organization or formal cause. The only deserters to me would have been those who did not leave the Autobots before going with you.~ Prowl pointed out.

~He's big on laws,~ Jazz chimed in. ~Not so much on emotions.~

~That is a more understandable now given what I have observed of your tactical systems,~ Wing replied.

~Petrorats running for cover,~ Deadlock grumbled quietly.

~Yet nothing illegal, or even immoral for a neutral,~ Prowl countered.

~Just cowardly,~ Deadlock replied. ~Abandoning everyone else instead of trying to help fix what was broken. How many of the poor and cast aside did you offer a place on your ships?~

~Credits weren't the deciding factor, skills and a willingness to work are were,~ Wing said defensively.

~Cowardly is slaughtering unarmed civilians,~ Prowl shot back.

~So say those who didn't always have to fight to get anything,~ Deadlock snarled, bristling from past pains, only to find Prowl lashing back without words. The pain of seeing a new sparkling torn in half by a well-fueled warrior. The same fate visited on the poorest who begged for life. A rage as pure as anything Deadlock knew focused on the embalm of that destruction and the real truth behind that rage. It wasn't at the destruction of Praxus. It was at the destruction of a city that _supported_ the rebellion at the hands of the rebellion.

"Saisho Tesuto, to ready position," one of the engineers ordered much earlier in their drills than normal.

~Already?~ Saisho Tesuto almost complained before leaving the block in the corner and walking back to wait for the hands and head to be removed. Even so, he was glad in a way that he'd soon be away from the anger between his components and the hatred of self that it generated.

"Walk to the door," an engineer pointed to the far end of the bay.

~I wonder what they're going to have us do next. Maybe punching something now that they know we have box moving down? We don't have a weapon so target practice is most likely out.~ Jazz commented as Saisho Tesuto obediently started towards the door.

~Wing, do you know what part of the base lies in this direction?~ Thundercracker pulled his focus away from the internal fight and back to their surroundings.

~Outside.~ Wing responded carefully. ~The sky is past that door.~

Even as he said it the huge bay doors began to open to let in bright sunlight.

~Hurry, please,~ Thundercracker couldn't block the spark-deep craving that rippled through him as he urged Saisho Tesuto to move even faster out away from the confining bars and oppressive ceilings. He couldn't wait to feel the wind and see the open sky. If only he could finally fly!

That was enough to distract Prowl and Deadlock from their silent effort to break the other, a fight that Prowl was winning. At least Jazz thought Prowl was winning. It was difficult to tell with Deadlock once he got riled. Jazz at least was sure that the Decepticon was every bit the true berserker that Sunstreaker was.

In his first move without an order from an organic, Saisho Tesuto stepped into the sun and onto the packed earth.

~This is going to take some work to clean out,~ Prowl grumbled to distract himself from the drive to separate and drive almost as strong as Thundercracker's desire to fly was.

~Umm, TC? Thundercracker? Your engines shouldn't...~ Jazz quieted as he realized that it wasn't the Seeker's thrusters lifting them off.

~What is happening?~ Saisho Tesuto asked.

~We're flying,~ Thundercracker managed to answer even as he lost himself in this long needed moment. He could feel his anxiety fade away as they climbed higher. It was nothing like his own flights racing high in the stratosphere with his trine but he could finally feel the wind against his wings on Saisho Tesuto's back and it was enough for now.

~I like flying,~ Saisho Tesuto answered, happy to be able to do something to make his components happy.

Most of them at any rate. His left leg was starting to panic and search for the command to disconnect.

Prowl laughed, gleeful at Deadlock's state in a streak of maliciousness that none thought he had.

The surprise almost broke Deadlock out of his panic at leaving the ground and turned his rage back towards Prowl. No one mocked him like that and got away with it.

~Enjoy the outside while we can,~ Jazz interjected, trying to distract everyone from the fight about to break out between their leg components.

"Saisho Tesuto, land!" an organic's voice shouted over a loudspeaker.

Despite five out of six wanting to remain airborne, their joined frames set down in the grip of the slave coding.

~We really need to focus on breaking that,~ Prowl mused out loud.

~I want to fly again,~ Saisho Tesuto couldn't stop staring up at the sky even as he remained obediently standing firm on the ground.

~So do I,~ Wing murmured, missing his stunt flights and time in the air even more now that he'd had a taste of it again.

"Saisho Tesuto, inside," the voice demanded.

~They're going to want to know what went wrong,~ Jazz fought the rising anger and panic within the group with a bit of hard rationality. ~We can tell them that we need to be able to go the outside. This should convince them we're not lying.~

~They also know they can call us back like a pet,~ Deadlock pointed out. He was happy to be back on the ground but hated the leash it represented.

~I'll try to get my former master to speak with me. Even if she doesn't care about our mental health, she's practical enough to understand that letting us fly or drive a bit will keep such incidents at a minimum,~ Wing said, hoping it was true. ~I can sell it as instinct, a reflex from being inside so much.~

~Do it,~ Thundercracker almost keened as Saisho Tesuto slowly walked out of the sunlight.

~I will. After we snuggle,~ Wing responded to his gestalt mate's need. Even so he recognized what was coming between Prowl and Deadlock. He'd seen it often enough in former military that came to the Citadel. They often took centuries to stop thinking with their fists.

Saisho Tesuto endured the after incident examine mostly in silence, keenly feeling the hostility and misery in his components. Thundercracker was too miserable to speak, while Wing and Jazz were wary of setting off their other two gestalt mates who radiated hostility.

Once they were finally sent back to their prison, the gestalt immediately broke apart. Thundercracker, craving the comfort of another flier's presence, wrapped himself around Wing.

Deadlock faced off against Prowl, bristling and snarling at the tactician. He'd had enough of being mocked, insulted and pushed around by the Autobot. The difference was this time Prowl wasn't any more stable than the Decepticon and possibly wanting the fight even more.

It all lead Jazz to stay well out of the way, ready to dart into his cell. He'd never seen Prowl like this. He'd never even heard of it. Yet he was sure this wasn't from damage. Prowl just didn't have a reason to remain civil he cared about enough to not strike out when given such a perfect target. At least that was an explanation that made a lot more sense to Jazz.

This was going to be ugly and Jazz had no doubt it would end with the organics in here to take both for repairs when the slave coding stopped them.

Deadlock only waited long enough for the others to get out of the way before lashing out at the Praxian with a hard punch followed by strike, fulling intending to snag any limb extended for a throw and rip it off even if it meant being slammed into a wall or the floor in the process. He had a moment of triumph when he connected with Prowl's forearm, then dropped straight to the ground from the pain racking him as his coding punished him for the intended violence towards his gestalt mate. Screaming as much in frustration as pain, he writhed on the floor virulently cursing the slave coding.

Prowl stepped back, his engine growling in frustration. Even so, he tried to speak so Deadlock would listen. "Relax and stop thinking."

Deadlock ignored the command and tried to push past the agony the coding was causing. He was sick of being forced to obey like some pet on a chain. His gestalt mates let him, watching and curious how far he'd get.

Clawing desperately at the ground he struggled to get back to his pedes. The Enforcers, Turmoil, the slavers, his new gestalt, it didn't matter...no one was going to look down on him as worthless gutter trash again; he'd make sure everyone feared him like they should. Rage filled him as the pain pushed rational thought aside. Reflex that had nothing to do with coding or intellect launched him at the nearest moving target.

Jazz's visor flashed as he recognized what had happened a moment before Prowl did and before he could do more than watch as berserker reflexes and highly trained martial artist reflexes met and sent the berserker flying away from everyone else. It left the Enforcer the target of choice for the enraged mech.

Thundercracker, who had been wrapped up in his own misery, realized what had happened just as Deadlock went crashing to the floor. Not even noticing the fall, Deadlock charged at Prowl with clearly murderous intent. Latching onto Wing's arm Thundercracker headed for his cell and the limited safety it represented. As soon as they got inside, he whispered to the Aerial, "Stay perfectly still." Wing might be a highly skilled fighter, but the Seeker doubted he'd ever fought a berserker in such close quarters, and certainly never without the option to kill. The bars were their only chance at this point, especially with this slagging coding hindering all of them.

"What's going on?" Wing obeyed even as he questioned. His optics were wide and bright as he took in the savagery being directed at Prowl.

"Berserker. Deadlock's a berserker. He'll fight past deactivation, probably for a couple joors," Thundercracker explained as simply as he could while still emphasizing the danger of it. Even through his fear for Wing and his own wings, he admired the skill Prowl fought with while remaining within the code's limitations despite the damage he was taking.

"So if we don't move he won't attack us?" Wing stared as Prowl's throw sent Deadlock crashing into one of the benches and winced when Deadlock grabbed a doorwing in the process. He'd heard tales of berserkers from some of the older warriors, but this was nothing like he'd imagined. Watching Deadlock get up like that crash had been a simple fall on a floor mat, Wing could see why the others claimed the grounder had such a terrifying reputation.

"He won't bother going past the bars to do so," Thundercracker's tone said it was more hope than certainty.

The scariest thing about what Wing was watching was how Deadlock just kept moving, never slowing or tiring as he kept attacking the Praxian despite Jazz's effort to distract the berserker. Wing thought briefly about his swords, but the coding wouldn't let him kill Deadlock. Plus Thundercracker had said death wouldn't stop him.

Without warning the door their combined form used to leave the room opened and a voice called over the loudspeaker, "lure Subject Deadlock into the hall."

Prowl, badly dented, one doorwing handing limply and bleeding noticeably twisted so his next throw sent Deadlock past the door. It slammed shut and the Praxian dropped, his armor panting as he struggled not to shut down in battle mode.

The fact that Prowl had survived the encounter with a berserk Deadlock was impressive. Now that the imminent danger was contained, Thundercracker went to open his cell door, but it refused to open to his touch.

The same voice came over the loudspeaker, "Shimmer to your cell."

"They're going to repair Prowl," Wing pushed Thundercracker towards the berth, taking the moment to get settled. Looking at the damage to the main room, he imagined they would be in here for quite a while.

Jazz hesitated, his hands on Prowl as he tried to help, but moved away and complied when Prowl nudged him that way. Once Jazz was locked in his cell four organic soldiers entered the room with a pair of service drones carrying a stretcher. Prowl was shut down and lifted onto it to be carried out of the room surrounded by soldiers.

* * *

Mindful of how tense everyone was after the fiasco, Wing was the picture of obedience as he followed the soldiers down the hallway. No word had been brought as to Prowl and Deadlock's current condition; the only thing the trio could be certain of was than that they were still online. Wing was privately hoping to have a little more time to adjust to the idea of living with the berserker now that he knew what Deadlock was capable of doing. It hadn't been a complete surprise when the soldiers came and got Wing, but Thundercracker had not been able to keep all of his distress out of his field when Wing was ordered from his cell.

Entering the room as ordered, Wing found himself facing his old master. Looking at him, she barked, "Wing, explain what happened."

"Stress triggered dormant berserker coding in Deadlock, ma'am. He couldn't stop while there was still a moving target no matter what," he began with the basics.

"Stress. Stress caused that?" She didn't hide her doubt.

"That is my understanding, ma'am. Walking outside, seeing the sky and open road caused all of us significant distress when it was taken away. Deadlock couldn't handle it as calmly as the rest of us when Prowl offered to spar with him to help settle down. He wanted to _hurt_ someone and when the slave coding punished him that the pain shut down everything that could respond to pain. Most would just pull away or drop the way Prowl did. A berserker apparently doesn't."

"And you were unaware that Deadlock was a berserker until he became violent. The others did not seem as surprised by his actions." She did not look pleased this revelation was only now coming to light.

Wing kept his gaze steady, "I knew that the term berserker has been applied to several different types of combatants in the past, not just those capable of doing what Deadlock did. I have never met a true berserker until now and have only heard stories of them; Thundercracker and Prowl have both seen a berserker in combat back on Cybertron and knew Deadlock, at least by reputation. Shimmer might have. That's why they recognized what was happening and took action to minimize the casualties."

"Yet you did not," she glared at him.

"I have not been near Cybertron since very early in the war," he had to work not to shrug.

"So what you're saying is we will have to list this accident as being caused by too much stress, and we can alleviate the stress by allowing your unit time outside," she still looked doubtful but seemed to be considering Wing's suggestion. "Is that why you were allowed to spend so much time outside even when you were my family's personal slave?"

"No, ma'am. I was allowed outside because my masters trusted me to return and believed that I had earned some freedoms," Wing answered simply.

"But the time outside does appear to have helped keep you stable for a very long time," she nodded, accepting the truth of Wing's statement even as she pondered the information he'd given her. "How severe is the berserking tendency? Is this going to transfer to Saisho Tesuto?"

"I don't know, ma'am. When four of five of us desired to fly, we flew. Deadlock's displeasure did not override the desire of the others, but I don't know what effect it would have if he lost control while we are joined," Wing tried to explain how limited his knowledge was.

She scowled but nodded, "We will need to do further testing to determine how many of your individual skills transfer to the gestalt form. In the meantime, I will take your suggestion of supervised time into consideration. Is there anything else that will prevent further breakdowns?"

Wing stilled to really think about it. There was a lot that could be done, but most of it wasn't going to be done and asking for something he knew wasn't going to be approved of was a bad idea in general.

"Activities, ma'am. The dance pole. Reading material. Blanks to make cards or board games out of. Training if the intent is to make Saisho Tesuto a weapon. All of us are used to high levels of activity and at least three of us are used to thinking. Boredom is a dangerous thing with slaves accustomed to freedom."

"You wish to alleviate your boredom while making yourselves more useful to us," she sounded a bit skeptical but appeared to be taking Wing's history of cooperation into account along with the truth of his final statement. "Is there anything else?"

"It has long been to my advantage to become more useful to my master, ma'am. Since my future is now bound to theirs, it is in my best interest to ensure their improved temperament as well," Wing spoke the truth and knew his past backed it up. "Can Prowl be repaired, ma'am?" he asked quietly, trying to project that he saw the information as a favor she could grant, if she so chose.

"Yes, although it will be expensive and take some time. Fortunately for him, he showed himself to be a more capable warrior than his initial condition implied," She tossed him the information the way she would a treat to a pet and he fluttered his wings in thanks for it just like a happy pet.

"Thank you, ma'am. I will ask the others what they know of teams with an unstable member. One of them might know more," he offered. "I had no reason to ask before. Now I do."

"Report everything you find out about these berserkers. Hopefully he will soon prove to be less of a problem," She let unsaid what would happen if Deadlock proved unmanageable.

"Yes ma'am," Wing bowed politely.

"Return to your cell," she turned her attention away from him, dismissing him from her thoughts.


	4. Smoothing the Edges

Prowl booted up feeling much better than he had on his last boot. Apparently his stiffness and aches had made them keep him unconscious longer. Now he was back in his cell and it was time to get caught up.

Wing noticed the movement and came over to the door to greet him. "Nice to see you moving around again. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. Is Deadlock back yet?" Prowl asked as he tried the lock on his door and stepped into the common space when it opened.

"Not yet, although we know he's still active. My old master implied he'll be returned eventually. They'll have to if they want the Saisho Tesuto project to continue. It's not like they can replace him," Wing walked towards the training area while they were talking. He moved slowly enough to give Prowl plenty of time to take in the changes while he'd been gone. There was the deck of cards that Thundercracker and Jazz were currently playing with and a dance pole that was secured to the wall almost two stories up.

"I see your master has also taken to rewarding us with some entertainment," Prowl twitched his doorwings. "Have you used the pole yet?"

"We've been trading off lessons," Wing grinned happily. "We spar for a time and then we dance, sometimes with the pole and sometimes without. Either way is good training in flexibility and coordination. Every distraction is welcome to reduce boredom. Are your repairs settling properly?"

"Yes, I don't even ache," Prowl nodded. "Then you haven't incorporated the pole into sparring yet."

"Not yet." Wing perked up at the idea, "I think I have enough of a feel for it to start incorporating it into training. Maybe we should start including more obstacles like the benches as well. Would you be interesting in sparring now?"

"Very much," Prowl stretched and settled his armor. "Do you want to see how I move with it or watch while we spar?"

"I'd like to see it incorporated while we're sparring," Wing settled into a stance relatively near the pole. "It will make an interesting variable, and it has been a while since I've had the opportunity to be surprised during training."

Prowl actually grinned and lunged for Wing in a move that was more relief of movement than a serious attack. Wing twisted aside, using some of the moves Jazz had shown him to slip out of Prowl's reach. He'd fallen into a more serious expression even as his own pleasure at seeing Prowl whole rippled through his field. It was enjoyable to experience Prowl using such a different style of movement as well. What had been centered on closing and wrestling moves with a fair amount of throwing was now fluid, fast and agile, something much closer to the style of a lighter build such as Wing, yet Prowl was pulling it off thanks to his greater strength that still maintained his natural agility.

It wasn't long before Wing caught him and tossed him when they were very close to the pole and abruptly the Praxian wasn't where physics and experience said he should be. In the bare nanokliks it took Wing to locate his wayward opponent Prowl had used his momentum and the pole as the fulcrum to spin around fully airborne and slam his pedes into Wing's back.

Wing managed to recover from his surprise even as he was knocked onto the floor. Rolling over, he scrambled to his pedes, grinning as he faced off against the Praxian again. "No wonder you wanted the pole. I need to learn how to do that," he said as he watched Prowl twist upward, using his arms to launch himself into a flip that ended with him perched almost a story and a half up and grinning down at Wing.

"Wow," Jazz breathed, visor bright, as he took in how Prowl moved.

"Dance moves?" Thundercracker asked as Wing used his turbines to level the playing field a bit.

"Nope, at least nothing you learn on a pole," Jazz murmured as he worked to place just how Prowl's moves worked and where they were from.

Thundercracker's focus was initially on Wing as he tracked the two gestalt mates continuing to spar above them, but the Aerial was obviously enjoying their vertical practice. Some of Prowl's moves vaguely reminded Thundercracker of warriors he had seen back in Vos, but it was fascinating to see the differences. Still staring upwards at the pair, he observed, "We will all need to practice together if we are to work as a team."

"Definitely. We've each got stuff to teach everybody. Even Deadlock. I think," Jazz spared a moment to try and picture the surly mech as a teacher. He whistled softly as Prowl launched himself fearlessly from three stories up to tackle Wing mid-air. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear that mech was Ops."

"Deadlock is vicious but brutally efficient, and he does have an amazing ability to survive on the battlefield," Thundercracker pondered the two moving above them even as Wing twisted, trying to toss Prowl off towards the floor. "We should see if we can get a series of bars and poles so the two of you can learn to scale upwards to fight like that. It might help Deadlock overcome some of his terror of flight so the rest of us can enjoy the sky."

"Good idea. I'd enjoy the bars too," Jazz grinned and only just kept himself seated and watching so Wing, the only one they were going to admit was literate, could write the request on their board. "Primus, Prowl looks like he's actually having _fun_. Mech never looks like he's having fun."

"Has he had many options to spar like this? Everything I've heard says he spends most of his time inside the major bases," Thundercracker asked, settling aside his cards to devote his full attention to the pair. Wing had managed to finally toss Prowl off, but the Praxian managed to control his slide down the wall to come to a stop still two stories above them.

"Nothing that I know of," Jazz admitted as Prowl jumped to the pole and then tackled Wing again. "Might be an Enforcer thing. I could see it being useful chasing someone down deep in a city. Still kinda amazing he's still this good."

"I'm just glad he hasn't taught more of the Autobots to fight by scale upwards like that," Thundercracker grimaced briefly as Wing twisted under Prowl's weight. "I do not enjoy being tackled while flying."

"It's not like Seekers came low enough for a grounder to jump on them like that," Jazz pointed out. "Twins only managed 'cause of Side's jet pack. This kind of setup just doesn't happen in reality. Not often anyway."

"True," Thundercracker said as Wing dropped even as he turned over and threw Prowl to the floor. Despite the hard thud, they all knew it wasn't nearly enough of an impact to even rattle Prowl, much less damage him.

Then Wing was on the floor and offering Prowl a hand up than was gracefully accepted.

"I've never sparred quite like that before," Wing didn't keep his enjoyment out of his field. "Most of the Knights keep to the more traditional forms, and the grounders tend to prefer staying on their pedes."

"Praxians aren't typical grounders," Prowl shivered his armor to settle himself after a very enjoyable spar. "We're as close to flight frames as rotors."

Not far away Jazz almost choked on his shock to hear that level of bigoted phrasing from Prowl of all mecha. He was always so proper and toting the party line.

"That explains why you didn't mind being so high up during the fight," Wing nodded in understanding. "I was wondering why you enjoyed it so much once we started to fly when we were outside. Same with Shimmer?" He glanced towards the other grounder with them.

"Me, nah," Jazz shook his helm. "No flier in me, just no fear of heights or speed. Acrobatics training does that."

"It is fortunate that two of the three grounders in our gestalt do not fear heights. Perhaps the four of us can figure out how to settle Deadlock's terror so he is not driven berserk the next time we fly," Thundercracker shifted over to give Wing space next to him.

"Control," Prowl said with the certainty of his tac-net. "The same way Shimmer learned not to fear killing heights. The same way I learned for that matter. Start small and give him control. The rest is teaching him to trust us not to let him fall. I'm not sure which will happen first."

"Then that is what we will do, once they give him back," Thundercracker said, then went quiet as Jazz began to plan out the set of bars and poles to ask for with Prowl and Wing.

* * *

Once again Wing found himself in front of his former master being interrogated about his gestalt mates. At least this time he had some positive news to report. Still settled into the submissive stance she would expect, he calmly started his report. "Prowl's repairs appear to have been successfully integrated into his frame. As instructed, I initiated a sparring match with him, and every indication is that he is back in fighting form."

"Good. Then he can keep Deadlock in check and we can return to testing," she nodded. "I watched the match. He is impressive. Are you learning from him?"

Wing nodded. "Yes, parts of Prowl's fighting style suit my frame type, and I am adapting them for my use. Shimmer should also be able to incorporate many of the maneuvers given his light build and skills. If we could have more of more poles and bars installed at various levels in the main room it would help us train together. It could also assisted us in desensitizing Deadlock to heights."

She nodded. "Both useful things. I will look into the modifications you requested. What is Deadlock's problem with heights? The others do not have such issues."

Wing calmly explained one of the fundamental differences their gestalt was facing, "Grounder Cybertronians normally do not like heights and prefer the stability of solid ground; fliers such as Thundercracker and I have no fear of heights and prefer the open skies. Deadlock has solid grounder coding in this regard. Prowl and Shimmer are both acrobats and have trained to overcome any innate discomfort with heights."

"So desensitization is needed. You work on that and we will as well," she ordered. "How are the others?"

Wing made a mental note to monitor the scientist's work on Deadlock even as he calmly shifted focus to his other gestalt mates. "Taking into consideration that he was not designed for combat, Shimmer is adjusting fairly well to our new purpose. The dance training the two of us are doing is helping him adapt to the combat maneuvers he is being taught."

"Good. Thundercracker?"

"Our brief time outside helped stabilize his coding, although without further time it will only be a temporary measure. As his frame is much larger than the rest of us he has less use for the agility training, although he has acknowledged the practicality of it. Seekers like him are designed to fight in the sky so he would be better suited as air support if we are not merged." Wing answered.

She regarded him for a moment. "What would you be best at on the battlefield?"

Wing paused for a moment before answering, "I have been trained to fight on both the ground and in the air. My positioning in battle would depend upon the terrain as well as our opponents and might change partway through combat. I am not the same type of flight frame as Thundercracker so the two of us will need to train together in flight in order to work together efficiently."

She sat down and picked up a datapad to take notes on. "What weapons have each of you trained with?"

Wing kept as close to the truth as he reasonably could while still maintaining their covers, "Based on what I currently know, Shimmer currently has no real training with weapons. Thundercracker has been trained with shoulder cannons and missiles. Deadlock, Prowl and I are trained with an assortment of guns and blades as well as other assorted melee weapons."

"Find out true preferences and skills," she ordered. "Your training in personal combat will continue, though focus will be on training the combined form. I want you to focus on bringing Shimmer's skills up to speed in hand to hand."

"Yes, ma'am," Wing bowed in deference to her and waited for her dismissal before leaving the room.

* * *

Deadlock came online in a fast combat boot, optics flashing as he scanned the immediate area for trouble. All he saw were the solid walls and bars of his cell with the main room of their prison beyond. These blackouts were the most annoying part of his rages; he didn't even get to appreciate the damage he'd done. Since he was still functioning he most likely hadn't managed to offline that arrogant Autobot. A scan of his systems revealed no lingering physical damage, so the organics must of repaired any damage he'd taken.

With a low grumble he stood and stalked to the door to get out of the cell he could see. As he stepped out he spotted Thundercracker first, standing in the middle of the common room and looking up. Following his gaze Deadlock spotted the first clue he'd been out for a while. Where there had been open space was now a collection of bars and polls the other grounders were using to try and catch a flying Wing.

He had no idea why those glitched fools were flinging themselves around like a pair of wannabe fliers; maybe the captivity had finally cracked their processors. Stomping over to a far couch he flopped down hoping energon would be coming soon.

"You're functioning," Thundercracker remarked casually, still watching the others moving above them.

"Hard to kill," Deadlock grunted back. Though he was trying to hide it, he was watching the Autobots carefully. They were both fast and agile and frankly everything Deadlock had no use for. Still Prowl and Wing had both managed to take him down when they sparred, so it made sense to watch them and figure out the best way to take them down.

"You know our masters are going to watch you more closely now that they know you're a berserker," Thundercracker kept up the casual conversation even as Jazz leaped down a story to tackle Wing.

"As if that'd make a difference," Deadlock shrugged. "Not even Megatron could control it and he understood it."

"We need to at least appear to be working to get it under control or they may scrap this entire project and us with it," Thundercracker pointed out. "They have made it clear they want us to be a cohesive a fighting team."

"Fighting I can do," Deadlock grinned at him. "I can even play nice with the 'Bots, long as he's not being a glitch."

"I think Prowl is smart enough to have learned that lesson. Fortunately, the organics seem to have bought Wing's claim that a series of issues led to your rage. He says we are going to let outside more often," Thundercracker glance back up, tracking Prowl as he missed latching on as Wing dove out of the way. The Praxian grabbed a bar and climbed back up another story. Refocusing his attention on the grounder next to him, he carefully observed, "Of course you realize you're going to have to learn to tolerate flying."

Deadlock made a face. "After what you glitches did to me? Not going to happen."

"Unlike the others I know why you do not want to leave the ground, however we have already been informed that Saisho Tesuto is going to be expected to fly." Thundercracker's flared his wings and rumbled briefly. Whether he was annoyed because of what happened or because it was now causing him problems wasn't immediately clear.

Deadlock's disgusted face turned into a silent snarl. "Good luck with that one."

"More like hard work," Thundercracker worked to settled himself. "The better the progress you make with us the less they are likely to force desensitization on you."

Now the snarl was no longer silent and drew attention from those sparring.

"Work? What the pit are you talking about?" Deadlock demanded as he bristled.

"They have explicitly told Wing this will be fixed one way or another," Thundercracker vented briefly. "I assumed you would prefer for the four of us to be involved more than them. The poles and bars are a way for you to get more comfortable off the ground before actually flying again."

Deadlock grunted and looked at the bars and polls accusingly. He could do that. He'd still have his pedes on something solid. Besides, it just wouldn't due to be the only one afraid of heights.

"Fine," Deadlock ground out. "I'll climb."

Thundercracker tipped his head fractionally, acknowledging just how hard this really was for Deadlock. He wouldn't be surprised if Jazz knew about Turmoil's more creative punishments but wasn't certain if the saboteur realized that Deadlock had experienced them. "Go ahead; I'll follow."

His engine grumbling but determined not to look weak in front of everyone, Deadlock got up and made an awkward jump to the lowest bar. It was anything but graceful or controlled, but he got up on it and while he paused to orient and stabilize he watched how Jazz moved from one bar to another. Deadlock knew he'd never be that graceful, but he saw enough to see the method and physics of it.

Thundercracker waited patiently for Deadlock to pull himself up to the next bar before grabbing the bar and climbing up after him. He made no attempt to rush since that would be the quickest way to make Deadlock fall and wipe out any progress he'd made. Instead he watched the grounder closely ready to catch him if he ran into trouble. Deadlock was moving very slowly but seemed to be determined to at least make it to the second story. It was a good start for what would be a long, unpleasant process.

* * *

Everyone knew something was up when they weren't ordered to join up before the door that their combined form usually went through opened with a large contingent of the fully cyborg guards.

"All mechs, follow the guard," the long-familiar voice from the loudspeaker ordered. Without more than a grumble from Deadlock, they all stood and obediently moved as ordered. They followed with growing curiosity as they were taken along a new path. It led up, but only by a single level so that meant they were still underground. When the door finally opened the four who knew war all instantly recognized where they were.

"Target range," Deadlock grinned, his field vibrating with anticipation for the blaster he saw on the table.

"Remember, only shoot the designated targets," Thundercracker rumbled at him. "We don't want to lose the privileges we have."

"Yeah, yeah, got it," Deadlock grunted.

"Who is first?" The full cyborg standing by a single blaster in the center of the open part of the dozen lane range.

"Me," Deadlock stepped forward and eagerly picked up the blaster after the organic's affirmative nod. It was about time he got to do something fun besides spiking the Autobot. A quick check revealed the weapon was fully functional though the charge likely didn't have more than half a dozen shots left. He walked over and stepped into the far left lane. Taking aim down the line he fired once to test the weapon and then fired rapidly, tightly grouping his shots on the center of the floppy, stationary target.

"Good. Return," the weapon master barked.

It was really too brief a time finally holding a weapon but he didn't want to lose any other chances to shoot. Almost reluctantly Deadlock popped the drained pack by habit and placed it and the blaster back on the table.

The weapon master nodded in clear approval but didn't call anyone else up. Instead the blaster was locked away inside the cabinet under the table and a riffle was brought out. Unlike the blaster, this one used solid projectiles. "Do you know this weapon?"

"I know how to shoot it," Deadlock looked the weapon over carefully. He took the offered rifle and checked it over, knowing enough to check that it was clear of obstructions and debris. Everything appeared in working order but that kind of assumption could get you killed in a real battle. Figuring out how to load it was a lot trickier since he'd only used projectiles once or twice. Eventually he gave up and had to ask the weapons master to load it. After determining everything was in order, he went back to his row and fired to test the recoil and accuracy. It had more recoil than he was used to but nothing he couldn't handle and the something the weapon ejected right by his face after the shot was as startling as it was distracting to his aim. Satisfied with its performance and ready for the quirks now, he rapidly emptied it into another tight cluster like he'd been using it for vorns.

"Impressive," the weapon master hummed open approval. "Return. Load and fire another set," he ordered and set out six more rounds.

This time Deadlock was confident in how this all worked, and out of respect for the newness of this weapon to him, he still checked it again to ensure that nothing needed to be cleared out after that last shot. The rounds were inserted into the rifle's revolver housing smoothly and the weapon closed and locked with a smooth motion. Another set went downrange from his chosen spot, all going through the hole of his first rifle set.

"Good. Return."

Deadlock obeyed, feeling better than he had in a long time.

"Next." The weapon master barked and motioned Deadlock to return to the group.

After a quick exchange of glances, Thundercracker gave a tiny wing motion and Prowl stepped forward. The blaster was once more on the table, this time with the cell separate from the weapon. On a well-ingrained reflex, Prowl paused at the table and looked at the weapon master for permission.

The cyborg chuckled. "Somebody taught you manners. Load and fire, isle 3," he made a motion to where he wanted Prowl.

A quick nod and Prowl did the same check Deadlock had, his hands moving with a smooth familiarity over a weapon similar enough to what he knew that it felt good in his hands.

Unlike Deadlock, Prowl gave the target a moment of study before raising the weapon, and in it he displayed his Enforcer coding and training in full in his stance. The first three shots were to center of mass, dead on, one through the next to leave only a single hole. The next three went through the center of the head, again, leaving only one hole.

Once he'd finished shooting, Prowl fell back into a ready stance while waiting for further instructions. After a few moments, the weapon master nodded and said, "Return. Let's see how you do with the rifle."

Prowl turned and headed back to the table and put the blaster down. Once again the weapon master locked up the blaster and placed the rifle and six rounds. With long time familiarity, Prowl checked the weapon over before easily loading the six rounds. He fired with the same accuracy as before and even more ease.

Thundercracker's turn was an interesting mix of clueless on the weapons and deadly accurate on the shooting.

"How did you learn to shoot?" The weapon master scowled at him.

"Arm cannons," Thundercracker lifted the arm nearest the targets in a casual aim that had made Autobots scatter for so long. "Built in."

The weapon master grunted and nodded. "Return. Next!"

Jazz glanced at Wing before hesitantly stepping forward and looked at the weapon master for instruction. "Go ahead; second lane from the right."

He picked the blaster up awkwardly and walked over to the designated lane. Jazz took his time aiming and fired three shots with the pistol. The shots hit exactly where he wanted them to strike: the first low and left missing but still hitting that target itself, the next off the target high and left with the last shot hitting far below the center of the target. Decent for someone who hadn't ever had formal training but some experience with at least the concept and parts of a weapon but not suspiciously good.

"Shimmer, right?" the weapon master barked at him.

"Yes, sir." Jazz looked over at him expectantly.

"You ever had any training?" the weapon master asked after taking a look at the target and his firing stance.

"No, sir. Just picked up some tips from a few customers." Jazz held the blaster awkwardly but kept his grip steady.

"It shows," he nodded. "Return the blaster and to your squad."

When Jazz obeyed, the weapon master looked directly at Wing. "Come on. You can't be more clueless than that."

Wing kept his expression steady but stared down at the unfamiliar blaster as he approached the table. He'd carefully watched the others as they handled the weapon and was hoping he wouldn't disgrace himself too badly. After waiting for a nod from the weapon master he picked up the blaster like he'd seen the others do. Stepping down to the far lane he took aim at the target, tried to think through what little he knew about the throwing knives that Dart liked and pulled the trigger.

When he looked downrange he didn't see where he'd hit and stilled in uncertainty.

"Well, that's new," the weapon master grunted. "You haven't even seen one of these, have you?"

"No, sir," Wing admitted with a slight cringe on the inside.

"Shimmer and Wing stay. The rest don't need any training," the weapon master told one of the guards.

"Thundercracker, Prowl, Deadlock, follow me," the guard turned and opened the door. The others glanced briefly at the pair being left behind before obediently leaving the room.

Once the others had left the range, the weapon master looked at Wing, "Okay, let's start with the basics. Hand it over and pay attention." Once he had the blaster back, he began instruction in basic weapon safety.

Jazz settled back pretending to pay attention to a lecture he already knew forwards, backwards, inside out and taught it blindfolded. Mentally he started comparing the cyborg to Ironhide. Ironhide was more fun, but he could tease and needle the ancient warrior. Not to mention he didn't need to work at being so much worse than he was.

Wing, on the other hand, really was paying close attention, but something was terribly off with his field. That was enough to draw Jazz's attention and hold it. He knew that teek, he just had to place it. Who was it that teeked like that?

He racked his processors for the rest of the lesson and only placed it when he could teek when Wing picked up the weapon.

Pacifist.

That was the same reaction First Aid always had to a weapon shoved in his hands.

But Wing definitely wasn't a pacifist, at least not in the same way First Aid was. The swords Wing carried and the way he could throw Deadlock and Prowl around the sparring field indicated more willingness to use violence than any true pacifist Jazz had ever met, but like First Aid and Beachcomber, he didn't seem to want to resort to it. It might just be a reluctance to use blasters, but it seemed like more. Probably something to do with the Knight code Prowl and Wing kept mentioning. Wing was an odd one, kinda like how Prowl and Ratchet were odd. Spark, society, coding and experience all turned into a jumble of contradictions by being survivors.

It might be worth chatting Wing up about it later. If Wing had as much trouble shooting someone as traditional pacifists, the rest of them would need to take that into account when they acted independent. Unlike some, Wing wouldn't be a hindrance, but Prowl needed to know this to use him appropriately. Just like not putting Bluestreak on the front line. Even if the sniper survived it, it wasn't a good use of him.

* * *

The next time the door opened without an announcement to merge the logical assumption was that it was once again time for the target practice. Instead, they were instructed to enter the repair bay; the first time they'd been in the room unmerged all at once. One of the engineers was waiting for them and looked them over. He pointed the two fliers towards a terminal, "Wing, Thundercracker there is a download with your air space restrictions. The rest of you follow the vehicle outside directly to the track."

"Yes, sir," Wing answered on reflex to both the authority and as his default place as the team's speaker.

By the time the door opened the grounders were all transformed and revving in excitement with Prowl nearly desperate to get out. Thundercracker was the first under the sun however, and was as far up as he was allowed at full power.

Once he was in the sky Thundercracker circled, enjoying the wind and light while he waited for Wing to join him. He could feel the tension and stress slowly fade the longer his pedes were off the ground. He watched as the rest of the gestalt chased after the organic's drone leading them off to the track. As odd as it still was he felt the coding reward him for being pleased at their joy and allowed himself to enjoy the silent praise.

::Is this enough space for your wings?:: Wing asked as he came up on the Seeker and began to twirl and spiral around him. ::I could only guess at what you really need, other than it's a lot more than I do.::

::It's better than what I had before,:: the Seeker twisted in flight, unable to match Wing's movements but still trying to play with him and quickly found that the stunt jet shifted his tricks and flips to suit the Seeker's frame better. ::At least I don't have to worry about being shot down every time I see the sky.::

::No, and even when we are shot at again it won't be with the same certainty you spoke about,:: Wing agreed with genuine relief and wiggled with the joy of being free to fly again.

::Speaking of being shot at, we will need to work on your firing skills if you are going to be up here with me during combat. Firing while in flight can be more complicated than from firing from the ground at a target,:: Thundercracker leveled out and put on a small burst of speed, trying to get more of the data Prowl wanted while still enjoying themselves. Wing easily kept up. Even with his much greater mass compared to what he was used to he still had a thrust to weight ratio far better than the Seeker he was happily flying with.

::How did you learn?:: Wing asked.

::Practice. The war has been going on for a long time on Cybertron, but before that I was a part of a martial wing back in Vos. Seekers fight from the sky,:: Thundercracker's mood dipped briefly thinking about the past but there really wasn't much point dwelling on it especially with the wind against his wings. ::You should try to convince the organics to let us work on aerial target practice. Try suggesting that it will give us flight and fighting time solving two problems at once.::

::I will,:: Wing promised as he danced playfully around his larger companion. ::Do you know how to fight on the ground very well?::

::I can do so if I must and better than most other Seekers, but my preference, like all Seekers is to fight from the air, our true domain. Most of the Aerials I know have similar views,:: Thundercracker took note of Wing's quick movements, beginning to adjust his normal flight patterns to work with his new partner. Flying with Wing was different from flying with his former trine, although tracking the Aerial's darting moments vaguely reminded him of flying with Skywarp.

::Very different from how I was trained. Knights fight on the ground by choice. Swords are not ranged weapons,:: Wing commented just to keep talking.

::Knights also do not learn ranged weapons or is that a personal choice?:: Thundercracker tried to keep his comment neutral even though he could not understand making that choice himself.

::Blasters are not considered an honorable weapon. The closest to a ranged weapon any Knight uses are Dart's throwing knives, but even for him they are not a primary weapon. Axe has a great two-handed ax, but he knows his swords as well as any. Knights simply do not engage in impersonal combat,:: he attempted to explain in less than a few kliks several orns worth of history and tradition.

Thundercracker actually thought about this, trying to understand how Seekers and Aerials could actually agree that range weapons were dishonorable and reject something as integral as flight when fighting because of it. This was a fundamental difference in worldview that he just couldn't understand. Rather than taint this flight with an unpleasant argument that would go nowhere, he decided to bypass the honor argument for a point that could not be avoided, ::Blasters may not be honorable weapons by a Knight's standards, but the weapon master has made it clear they expect all of us to use them.::

::Thus I am learning,:: the resigned acceptance was clear in Wing's harmonics. ::I will even use it if need be. I still intend to use my swords when possible. No matter how well they may train me with a blaster it will not come close to my skill and experience with my swords. I've spent my entire existence with blades.::

::That is all we can ask of you,:: Thundercracker decided to discretely ask the Aerial more about his previous life later, preferably while everyone was relaxing. Prowl seemed interested in the Knights as well, and it might not be as volatile a subject for Wing as it was for most of the others. ::I do not understand your preference for swords and close fighting, but as long as it does not put you at too great a risk I can learn to accept that it is something important to you.::

::You've seen me spar against two warriors you seem to know and it is an easy win,:: Wing tried to reassure him. ::I have not survived as much as I have to extinguish over whether or not to fly or shoot. I'll come to terms with if after we survive. I would learn to fly combat from you if you will teach me.::

::I will always enjoy spending the time up here with you whether we are simply flying or training. It will be interesting adapting the methods I know to your flying skills. Maybe I can learn a few things from you as well. That's enough talk; let's enjoy our time up here,:: Thundercracker slipped into a dive, inviting Wing to chase him.

* * *

Deadlock wasn't fond of his gestalt mates but in this place he liked being separated from them even more. Bad things happened when one of them was separated. Yet the slave code was still enough to get him to move with little more than the order so here he was, alone and definitely not afraid of anything these organics could come up with.

The six cyborg soldiers who'd escorted him away from the others were far more heavily armored than a normal slave warrior would warrant, but the organics had become a lot more wary of him since they'd learned they couldn't render him completely helpless with just a command. In a way it was flattering, much like the way Autobots reacted to him by sending many of their best to whatever battlefront he was on. Fear in an enemy was a lovely thing to teek.

It still didn't make a lot of sense when he was actually pushed through a door and chained to the floor by his ankles.

This didn't seem like another test of his fighting skills. There were no drones in the room, and once the soldiers were finished locking him down they all exited leaving him alone. Looking up at the high ceiling he tried to figure out what was going on.

His balance wobbled even as reflexes kicked in to steady him and assess what was going on. Which was the platform lifting up.

Well this didn't look good.

Not good at all.

It stopped at about five times his height and the ankle shackle unlocked.

"Jump." A voice ordered from a loudspeaker.

Deadlock stared up at the ceiling in disbelief, his processor almost locking at the ridiculous, terrifying command. Despite working at it consistently he hadn't even made it up the bars to the fourth story yet, and that was knowing that Wing and Thundercracker were around and willing to catch him. No way he was going to just mindlessly step out into oblivion just because these sadistic organics expected him to do it.

"Three. Two. One. Fall." The voice echoed as the platform he was on began to tip forward. 

He didn't even think, he simply grabbed onto the only available thing; the chains he'd been bound by. Now he was clinging desperately to the two metal chains hoping they would hold him. His pedes couldn't get traction on the tilted platform and were now dangling over empty space.

"Let. Go." A snarl directly into his processors came with lashing pain when he didn't obey. _Couldn't_ obey.

Suddenly the platform itself came loose from whatever had lifted it and Deadlock felt himself in free-fall with the metal plate he was still gripping coming down on top of him.

 _This is going to hurt_ was the only thought he was capable of. The rest was consumed by trying not to scream.

The jarring impact with the floor knocked him back into motion. He managed to raise his arms above his head shielding his optics just as the metal plate slammed down on top of him. It clanked against him once and deflected off to the side all while he was scanning damage reports that wouldn't be damage even to the wimpiest of Autobots.

He hauled himself to his pedes and glared about, trying to make sense of it. Sure, a fall of that height wouldn't knock him out, he knew that, but he should have been hurt. Maybe not broken struts, but at least cracked armor. A step forward and the floor gave slightly under his weight. As the floor gave again under his next step he realized this room was designed to reduce damage from impacts, probably so the organics could train with fewer injuries. The lift that had forced him into the air finished retracting back into the floor before he thought to attack it.

Deadlock grumbled, looked around, and reality flickered briefly into a boot sequence that didn't make any sense. He was on the ground, on his back and undamaged. A moment to orient and he leapt upright only to freeze when he realized he was once more on the platform well above ground level. 

Even knowing the whole platform was rigged and the drop wouldn't kill him, Deadlock couldn't make himself move away from the illusion of safety in the center. This was the kind of twisted torment Turmoil would approve of.

"Jump." The hated voice from the loudspeaker repeated.

"No!" He raised a fist and snarled, the defiance that kept him going through the gutters, through the war, through Turmoil and slavery and everything the universe cared to throw at him full in his spark as he was dropped once more and held on for dear life. It wasn't a choice. It simply was what it was and Deadlock embraced what he was; good, bad and crazy.

All too soon and yet not soon enough the platform fell, and Deadlock found himself in empty air with the ground rushing at him. Terrified even though he knew the fall wouldn't hurt him, he still tried to roll away from the plate even as he slammed back down on the floor. This time he felt it give under him, slowing his descent enough to prevent damage. He'd no doubt ache when they were finally done; mostly from that stupid platform landing on him!

This time he shoved it away with a snarl of building anger and felt the world go sideways, only to begin to boot.

It was going to be a long orn, but at least these sadists didn't have an interest in finding out how big a spike could be shoved in him before he passed out from energon loss.

* * *

Wing dove sharply, lining the drone up in his sites and trying to ignore the nagging feeling of wrongness at these less than honorable actions. _This is just another form of target practice. They are not alive any more than the blaster targets are._ Having centered himself as best he could, he fired and arced sharply away from the drone, twisting to avoid any incoming fire.

::You're definitely learning how to dodge blaster fire.:: Thundercracker observed from overhead.

::Thanks,:: Wing responded. He kept his focus on the arc Thundercracker had showed him to bring him around again but tightening it to take advantage of his better flight parameters.

He took aim at the drone again, determined to successfully hit it this time. He tried to visualize it taking aim at Prowl while another further away was firing on Deadlock. Taking the drones out from the air would help his unit more than landing and engaging one of them with his swords. He kept telling himself that, repeating that this was needed. Sometimes it managed to clear his processors enough to aim well, though the entire process was still a difficult one. It was so different from aiming to strike with anything else.

As he pulled out of the strafing run he realized he wasn't sure how close he'd come to hitting and reprimanded himself for the loss of attention.

::Closer. You were only a couple handspans off target this time,:: Thundercracker told him.

::But I'm still not hitting them,:: Wing finished his arch and turned to make another run. ::I can't just be suppressive fire up here; that will only lead to our gestalt mates injured. I need to actually hit the targets.::

::You will. Even sparked warriors take time to hone their coding. You're starting out worse off than my rawest recruit. You have a long lifetime of experience targeting things in ways that no longer work,:: Thundercracker reminded him patiently. ::You must unlearn before you can learn.::

::You sound like some of my previous instructors,:: Wing sighed. ::I just wish I was less of a burden right now. Even with the weapon master's patience I'm still having difficulty on the shooting range.::

::You are improving. That is what matters,:: Thundercracker encouraged him through the rounds, occasionally offering advice, but primarily allowing Wing to learn by time.

After five more tries when Wing finally managed a glancing hit on the drone, a command came over their comms, ::Return to base.::

::At least we're getting lots of flight time out of this,:: Wing tried to find a positive side to the practice as they landed on the airstrip.

::Yes, it feels good to be in the air and under open skies so much,:: Thundercracker agreed as they transformed and obediently walked to their guards. ::Something to be grateful for.::

::Subject Thundercracker. Return with the guard. Subject Wing stay.:: the voice commanded.

Wing flicked a quick glance at Thundercracker. ::Perhaps my old master wants to talk again; it has been a few orns since the last update. If it's her I'll let all of you know what she says when I get back.::

Thundercracker flicked his wings in acceptance and departed with the guard, leaving Wing to wonder why he was still standing by the airstrip.

Once Thundercracker was gone, the voice announced, ::Resume aerial weapon training.::

Confused why they wanted him to practice without his instructor, Wing transformed and headed back up into the air space. Perhaps the weapon master wanted to see if having Thundercracker present was more of a distraction than a help. Maybe they just wanted him to work more, like on the indoor range where he'd been quickly singled out from Jazz as needing much more time and attention despite his best efforts. Whatever it was, it did mean he got to fly more and that wasn't a bad thing.

With no additional instructions, Wing began the downward arc of the strafing run he'd been trained in. Halfway through the arc the drone unexpectedly pivoted towards him and opened fire, clearly aiming at him as he strafed it. Twisting in flight just as Thundercracker had taught, Wing managed to dodge several shots before a round pierced the outer edge of his left wing. As thin as the length was, that single shot nearly severed it and sent Wing twisting out of the way in shock.

::It will stop shooting when you hit it.:: the voice informed him.

Wing did his best to dodge the shots still being fired from the drone while he worked to compensate for the damage. He knew better than to try to land and attack it; that wasn't what they were trying to teach him. He started another strafing run, keeping his focus on the drone he was still trying to dodge. Even as he fired at it, a searing pain lanced through his systems as it struck his nosecone. Training to fight through all kinds of pain and damage kept him going, but it did not improve his aim. He could barely hit the target with nothing distracting him. He would keep trying, unable to fear deactivation, but he knew in his spark he couldn't win this fight.

He could only hope this wouldn't cripple the others too badly and that they would still be able to escape. As he pulled up from another unsuccessful attack a shot hit the back of his right wing, fracturing it and sending him spiraling towards the ground and darkness.

He booted to aches but no pain and repair lists scrolling in the internal HUD. A low groan escaped him as he became fully aware and recognized the repair bay of the base. At least he hadn't offlined and crippled the others. As he looked around and noticed that no one else was in the room, the same voice commanded over the loudspeaker, "Wing, report to aerial weapon training."

Another groan escaped him even as he got up and obeyed. Stories of Thundercracker's existence before he came here flashed through his processors and he understood that offlining was unlikely at best. Their masters wanted him to function. They were just going to try to train him with pain instead of patience.

* * *

"Where is he? What are they doing to him?" Thundercracker paced restlessly, rumbling as he once again glared up at the viewing window high above them. Wing had been gone for over three orn, far too long for a simple meeting. He wanted to know where his youngling was and what was happening to him, but shouting had only lead to silence. Even with his ever-growing concern he understood why Prowl still said they shouldn't use the writing board, so he turned away from its taunting presence.

"You don't want to know," Deadlock finally growled at him, the first actual language the mech had used his since his multi-orn disappearance. "Turmoil would approve of them."

Thundercracker froze and turned at those bitter words from his fellow Decepticon. He knew what kind of punishments Turmoil liked to use on his rebellious subordinates, and he also knew Deadlock wouldn't make that comparison lightly. He kept his anger banked as he asked, "What did they do to you?"

Both Autobots studiously attempted to look like they weren't paying attention, trying to give Deadlock the illusion of privacy. 

"Kept dropping me on a soft floor," Deadlock finally answered a question they'd all had.

"The entire time you were gone?" Thundercracker managed to keep his voice steady even as anger and worry filled in his field. What were they doing to Wing right now? How much damage had the incompetent fools that called themselves scientists done to his gestalt mates? Deadlock had been working steadily to get past what Turmoil had done to him, but after he had been brought back he had barely touch the bars above them.

"All I was aware for," Deadlock tried to shrug like it was nothing. "Wing's probably being shot up. It's his failing to them."

Deadlock's words hit hard as Thundercracker recalled his own experience as a target. It had been a miserable existence, and he had much thicker armor then than Wing had now. If that truly Wing's current fate Thundercracker would find a way to make these organics pay. Venting heavily he looked Deadlock over carefully, searching for signs of how bad the strain was on the grounder. Deadlock seemed to be keeping things together so far, but the Seeker didn't expect it to stay that way if he was cornered again. Making another circuit of the room, he paused briefly by the Autobots and said quietly, "Tread lightly with him though show no pity. Deadlock may be pushed too far if they do that to him again."

Jazz nodded his understanding and Prowl dipped his doorwings in the same.

"He is unit now. We will do what he needs," Prowl spoke just as quietly, but the harmonics and exact glyphs harkened back to a time before the war, back to the origin of the Praxian Enforcer's social coding. Prowl could hate Deadlock and Thundercracker, but he'd do all he could to take care of them.

Thundercracker gave a small tip of his wings to the pair and continued circling the room, trying to pace off his frustration and worry since the room was too small for him to fly like he wanted to. They used different glyphs, and it wasn't all the same, but flock, gang, unit and family all had a similar social base of protecting the others to protect yourself. It was very good to hear Prowl say they were unit.

Eventually a voice came over the loudspeaker, "Report to your cells."

Glaring up at the window, Thundercracker waited for the others to enter before turning and storming into his cell. It wasn't time for recharge yet. Hopefully this meant they would be getting Wing back soon. It was that hope that caused them all to obey, even the normally uncooperative Deadlock.

The door slid open and Wing stood in front of a small group of soldiers. His stance was dazed but his frame looked okay at this range. It wasn't long before he took the steps to clear the door and it closed behind him. As soon as they were safely locked away again the cell doors unlocked.

Thundercracker was the first out of his cell and headed straight for Wing in his need to find out if Deadlock's prediction was true. Once he reached the other flier he carefully looked him over for any physical evidence of damage. There was none, but the normally steady and friendly mech was badly rattled and almost glued himself to Thundercracker's plating as he began shaking. Thundercracker wrapped an arm and his field around the smaller flier encouraging him to remain in contact even as he started guiding the other mech further into the room. "Would you prefer my quarters or the wash rack?"

"Berth," Wing shivered and leaned gratefully into the contact. "Never want to do that again."

Glancing over at the others, he said, ::I'll let you know when he's ready to talk.:: After all the grounders were a part of the flock and would want to know what had happened to Wing. Clamping down on his renewed anger he guided Wing into his cell and helped him onto the berth before lying down next to him. The normally strong, steady and intelligent warrior whimpered softly in relief at the padding and even more at the field and warm frame he was snuggled against.

Thundercracker settled in next to him, letting his youngling draw as much comfort as he needed. Despite his impressive skills the neutral was still naive compared to the rest of them, less touched by war and deprivation than most of the mecha Thundercracker knew. They had time and could wait for Wing to settle before learning what had happened.

The Seeker drifted into a light recharge after Wing did, though he never went deep enough to miss when Wing began to boot again. As stressed as his youngling still was, he teeked much better when golden optics light once more.

"Did you recharge well?" Thundercracker asked, trying to keep things as normal as possible. He wasn't going to coddle him too much knowing that Wing might well resent being treated like something fragile and delicate. He was a proven warrior and deserved to be treated as such. Yet Thundercracker also knew how even the most hardened of warriors needed to be held and comforted after a brutal beating. He'd brought Starscream back to himself often enough.

"Better than I expect," Wing nuzzled his canopy, grateful for the comfort and care. "I still have much to meditate on, but I'm ready for that now. I hadn't recharged since our practice."

Thundercracker shifted slightly and let his field remain steady as he spoke, "It's understandable you would need recharge then since it's been over three orns since I left the training grounds. Are you able to talk about what happened?"

Wing nodded even as he shivered a bit. "I've been badly damaged in training before. I know pain. Always before I was given time to process and learn from the pain before I faced the lesson again. They just repaired me and sent me back out, again and again, without time to even recharge, much less meditate and learn."

"What damaged you?" Thundercracker prodded gently.

"Oh, sorry. After you left it went to live fire on both sides. The drone kept shooting me down until I finally managed a solid hit on it," Wing explained a bit sheepishly.

"I'm contacting the others; they need to hear what happened as well," Thundercracker was grateful for earlier Deadlock's pessimism, the forewarning helped him keep his field steady as he contemplated this latest cruelty. Opening his comm to the grounders he said, ::You'd better get over here; Deadlock was right.::

"Coming," Jazz called out, more in warning than confirmation. He knew as well as any how unpredictable badly rattled warriors could be, even ones as steady as Wing.

"What happened?" Prowl asked, almost a soft tone to his normally harsh voice.

"Their idea of teaching me to shoot involved giving live ammo to my target and letting it shoot me down until I worked out how to shoot it," Wing summed up three orns of pain, stress and stasis.

"I figured they were sadistic enough to do it," Deadlock said shortly, not looking at Wing. "They're getting impatient."

"Are they trying to sabotage us or do they just think we are unfeeling drones?" Thundercracker looked at the traumatized grounder while still holding the flier. "So far their attempts to fix you two have only made things worse."

"Depends," Wing murmured. "Some see slaves and a slave is a slave. Others see machines that should get it right within a handful of tries. These probably expect us to learn like their most heavily cyber-upgraded soldiers. Upload the program and it works within an orn or two of learning."

"That is how many skills do work," Prowl hummed. "It just isn't how one approaches processor damage or psychological issues such as they are becoming impatient with."

"I don't see how we're going to be able to convince them this isn't going to work, and I'm worried about what they'll try when they see their efforts haven't produced the desired results," Thundercracker grumbled. "They haven't tried punishing all of us for one failure yet, but I could see that coming soon with the other irrational actions they've taken."

Prowl nodded and glanced around. His unease warred with his pragmatic nature and he motioned them all to join a hardline linkup.

Agreeing that this needed privacy, Thundercracker offered a link first to Wing, waiting for the other flier to accept the connection before extending the same offer to Deadlock. The grounder looked at it suspiciously, then at Thundercracker in a complete reevaluation of how much he trusted the Seeker. After a long, tense moment he grunted, flopped down to sit on the berth and plugged into the small hub that allowed the five way connection without a mass of cables going everywhere.

Prowl and Jazz hooked in next, and then it wasn't dissimilar to when they were joined as the gestalt. Prowl was very reserved with heavy, aggressive firewalls just behind his front shared space. Jazz seemed open and friendly, but everyone knew his hidden firewalls were just as deadly as Prowl's, if not more so. Wing was actually stronger and more steady here than he displayed, though there was no doubting that he was badly rattled at the moment. Thundercracker was in a full protective rage kept in check only by his pragmatic nature and a complete lack of a target. Deadlock was snarly and withdrawn, but there, and for once he and Prowl showed no hint of going after each other.

~We must escape _soon_ ,~ Prowl stated, a simple thing to say but so much more difficult to do.

~Not going to get any arguments, but not many ideas are floating.~ Jazz pointed out.

~Before we can do anything we must break our slave code enough to make a run for it,~ Prowl gave a pointed mental look at Jazz.

~Sure. I can break mine. I know you can break yours. Deadlock too. What about you two?~ Jazz asked the fliers.

~I don't even know how to start,~ Wing admitted.

~I can teach you. It takes smarts, will and tenacity if you don't know code well. A tolerance for pain is really helpful,~ Jazz sent a packet with the basics and what he already knew. Prowl added his knowledge to the pool.

~I just break mine,~ Deadlock shrugged.

~Pure will and a tolerance for pain that's off the charts,~ Jazz translated. ~The berserker code too, probably.~

~Make certain to check the rest of your coding for other surprises. They may have added other restraints as they learned of our skills and abilities. I have some skill with code but would like to take advantage of your expertise,~ Thundercracker answered while contemplating another issue with escaping. ~We will have to help Saisho Tesuto break the slave coding once he is convinced to join the escape plan.~

~Yes, though once we have broken our code it will be much simpler to break his,~ Prowl said.

~Yeah, there's surprisingly little extra code to bring his personality into existence,~ Jazz agreed and pinged the data packet to Thundercracker. ~At least he's already inclined to listen to us.~

~That is helpful. Hopefully he will continue to do so since uncooperative gestalts are challenging to work with,~ Thundercracker agreed.

Prowl let out a quiet mental groan of agreement.

~Autobot gestalts cause trouble?~ Thundercracker couldn't quite hide his surprise.

~Not your kind of trouble, but First Aid and thus Defensor do occasionally refuse to fight,~ Prowl shrugged.

~Can we begin to work on the code?~ Wing suggested.

~Yeah, the sooner we get out of here the better,~ Deadlock grumbled as he shifted focus to his own coding.

* * *

Once again the despised voice came over the loudspeaker, "Form Saisho Tesuto."

Wary of whatever new tortures the organics had is store for them, Thundercracker reluctantly shifted his focus away from his coding and headed over to join the others and wait for the bay doors to open.

~What happened?~ Saisho Tesuto asked, sensing the anger and fear in his components.

Instead of words, Prowl offered a summery memory and a few snippets each victim have supplied in explanation.

Saisho Tesuto felt his own anger grow at the mistreatment of his components by his creators. ~Why do they hurt Wing and Deadlock when they are trying to learn and improve?~

~Even though Wing and Deadlock have both been making progress, the scientists do not appear satisfied with the speed of the results and have decided to intervene. Perhaps we are not keeping to their time table,~ Thundercracker offered.

~But they are trying.~ Saisho Tesuto objected even as he obeyed the commands to move forward so his hands and head could be added.

Thundercracker agreed but continued pressing the unpleasant point, ~We all know that but the scientists don't listen to us unless they decide that they want our opinions. They are only interested in achieving their desired results even at our expense.~

~But if they break a component there is no more me,~ Saisho Tesuto didn't try to hide his confusion from his components.

~They don't seem to understand that,~ Prowl told him.

The conversation paused when there was a surge of excitement across the joint awareness and everyone briefly looked for the source. It centered on Jazz and what was in his hand.

~And we are armed, my mechs,~ Jazz's internal grin was triumphant as he hefted the gestalt-sized heavy gun.

~They're advancing us on the time table again,~ Thundercracker noted. It was subtle but obvious the he was pleased Wing wasn't being forced to wield it right now.

~At least they're letting us use a real weapon,~ Deadlock ignored his own buried distress and focused on their new toy.

~We escape now?~ Saisho Tesuto asked.

~Not yet,~ Prowl insisted. ~We must break all the slave code first so they can not call anyone back.~

~The last thing we want is for someone to be trapped here to be punished. We can not leave anyone behind,~ Thundercracker added backing Prowl's argument.

~So we will all continue to act as if as little as possible has changed until that coding is broken in all of us,~ Wing concluded steady in his own resolve.

~How do we break my coding?~ Saisho Tesuto asked even as he followed directions to go outside.

~Once our slave coding is broken we'll know all the tricks needed to break yours,~ Jazz added confidently as they approached the vehicle firing range. ~How accurate should we be with this thing starting out?~

~Better than Shimmer, not as good as any of us truly are,~ Prowl supplied.

~We will keep our true skills hidden,~ Saisho Tesuto agreed as waited for the order to fire, pleased to have his components united but angry that it had been caused by such callous treatment.

"Saisho Tesuto fire at the target," the voice announced over the loudspeaker.

There was a pause as the weapon was brought up, and another as the intended placement off center was selected. The recoil of the weapon surged into Jazz and slammed into the joint far harder than anyone expected and almost detached the limb.

~You okay?,~ Saisho Tesuto asked Jazz as he reached around with Wing's limb to check the connection point for any damage. He didn't want any of his components to be injured again.

"Saisho Tesuto fire at the target," the voice repeated.

Despite being not quite as sure his left arm was as secure as he wanted to he, the gestalt shifted to take aim.

~I'm fine,~ Jazz reassured him as they braced more effectively for the recoil. ~That thing has the kick of a Dinobot.~

~It does enough damage to make it worth the kickback,~ Deadlock grunted as they struck the target off center again. ~That's going to be useful later.~

~It is definitely something to plan to acquire during the escape,~ Thundercracker agreed, wanting a chance at payback for what all of them had endured.

Prowl went utterly silent for a long moment. ~We should try to break apart before they order it. It is possible the head, hands and weapon will subspace just as they do for all modern gestalts.~

~You will keep my parts away from them?~ Saisho Tesuto was pleased that the scientists would have less access to modify his parts.

~That's something new I wouldn't mind revealing even though they won't like the weapon being with us,~ Wing agreed.

~It's not like any of us could realistically use it and they know that,~ Deadlock pointed out.

~If it works the way it does for Autobot gestalts, then the weapon will only be accessible to Saisho Tesuto, not us,~ Prowl postulated. ~It is worth a try.~

~I would like a real designation; I don't want that you have to keep calling me that,~ Saisho Tesuto announced as he continued to fire when commanded and gradually improved his aim to display that the good shooters were influencing the overall performance.

Prowl offered a couple dozen and their various meanings in the languages and subcultures the group. ~We want one that you like as well.~ He paused as an idea crossed his awareness. ~Are you at all aware while we are not merged?~

After giving careful consideration to the listed options he said, ~I like Flightplan; it suits us well. As for what happens when you are separate, I was already aware that you were all angry, but I did not know why until you told me what happened.~

~Could you tell that something was going badly when Wing or Deadlock were being tortured?~ Prowl asked with undisguised fascination for what was easily the least understood aspect of gestalt functioning.

~I knew some of my components were hurt but did not know why or how,~ Flightplan let some of his distress out, wanting some comfort from his older, more experienced components. They all responded with a mental embrace, even the taciturn Deadlock. Some cooed, some trilled, some were simply there for him. It was silent and didn't interrupt the target practice, but it made Flightplan feel warm and much better.

"Saisho Tesuto return to the medical bay," the loudspeaker voice finally announced.

~Is everyone ready to try Prowl's suggestion? I would suggest we do so as soon as we enter the building so we have the best chance of keeping the gun.~ Thundercracker asked as Flightplan turned and headed away from the target range.

Agreement hums replied and they were all ready when they stepped inside. The internal order to separate was given with flickers of hope and readiness to dodge large falling objects if they were wrong. The separation went as smoothly as it did every time, and Thundercracker was especially pleased when a large falling head did not crash down on him as Flightplan's head, hands and gun disappeared into subspace. The lack of heavy clanks and sounds of damage or pain confirmed the other pieces had also subspaced.

The unexpected move caused the guards to tense, but they didn't fire as nothing registered to them as a threat.

"That went well," Prowl said as he stood and looked around.

"And now we get questioned about what just happened," Thundercracker moved next to Deadlock and gave Wing a small nod to join them. Even though he couldn't do anything to these organics he wanted the two traumatized members of his flock close to him. Jazz and Prowl moved closer as well, presenting an innocent looking shield for the traumatized pair.

"Wing: remain. All others to your barracks." The long familiar voice ordered.

A small ripple of fear flickered through his field until Wing centered himself. Knowing there was nothing the others could do right now, he settled his frame into the subservient stance his former master would expect and calmly said, "I'll meet back up with you once this conversation is finished. Go on, there is no point angering them right now, and I expected to be the one questioned."

Thundercracker reached out to stroke Wing's finials in a gentle show of support-familial affection and went with the guards without protest. Wing obediently followed another guard to where his master was waiting.

Seated like always behind the desk she barely waited for the door to close behind him before demanding, "Wing, what just happened and why hasn't it happened before?"

"We separated, master. Prowl had seen that the head and hands of gestalts on Cybertron disappear and reappear when they separate or merge. It hasn't happened before because those items had always been removed before separation before.

"So you decided to test this without telling me about it first?" She looked annoyed at the impulsive initiative being shown by her experiment, but she did seem to be subtly responding to Wing's deliberate subservient behavior.

"It was an impulsive idea and it sounded useful, master," Wing offered a subtle cringe at the rebuke.

"Next time tell me before you think of doing anything like that. That's what the writing board is for," she snapped before continuing in a calmer tone, apparently appeased by his display. "Still, it will probably make you more useful in the field. Do you have access to those pieces now or only when merged?"

"Thundercracker said it's only when merged, but we haven't tried to access the parts while separated, master," Wing answered. "I can't access any of them."

"Well that makes modifications a bit trickier, but we can remove parts early to work on them when needed. We will need to observe the new assembly process soon," she absentmindedly made a notation of the pad in front of her. "Do you have anything else new to report that you've failed to mention so far?"

Wing debated the value of bringing up how little the abusive training methods were using worked, but he honestly couldn't think of a way to say that exposing Deadlock to heights and falling wasn't the kind of exposure that processor doctors meant when they said desensitization. Eventually he simply shook his helm. "No, master."

"Make certain to report any new useful information you get from the others before acting on it. Return to the barracks," she dismissed him and turned her attention back to her reports.

Wing responded with a bow and quickly left.


	5. Making a Break For It

The five members of the gestalt sat on Thundercracker's berth and waited for the flurry of electronic handshakes to finish so they could talk in actual privacy.

~How are we going to get out of here?~ Deadlock's growl echoed to all of them with far more information on how stressed he was than he wanted anyone to know.

~If we try to leave when Flightplan is on the firing range we'll be tracked down or shot down almost immediately. Even though we could do a great deal of damage, he's too easily located,~ Thundercracker dismissed that avenue of escape, especially since it would ultimately inflict more trauma on his flock. ~We have a similar problem attempting when we're allowed out for flight and driving time; that's when they watch us the closest.~

~So we break out when I always so,~ Jazz shrugged at the curious looks he got. ~At night, when the guards aren't as aware and the fewest number of anything are up and about.~

~That plan would have the highest probability for success,~ Prowl agreed.

~We're just going to sneak out and hope they don't notice us leaving? I'd like to get some payback for what they did,~ Deadlock grumbled, torn between wanting to be as far away as possible from his tormentors and getting revenge for what had been done to them.

~Every good escape comes with distractions,~ Jazz grinned devilishly at them.

~Dalidin or Satros 3?~ Prowl asked with a thoughtful hum.

~Dalidin would be more challenging to orchestrate but also more satisfying,~ Thundercracker pointed out, remembering the destruction of that particular base. ~Destroying this base would make it more difficult for them to follow us, but they might focus on retrieving us considering how expensive this project must be. Knocking out the power wouldn't immediately trigger a check on our barracks.~

~You do realize that destroying this base would make them even more likely to issue bounties for our capture?~ Wing pointed out from his favorite spot pressed up against Thundercracker. The Seeker's field always helped him center himself after the more sadistic training sessions.

~Doubtful, given this must be a very expensive project that they wanted on the battlefield last vorn,~ Prowl pointed out with a languid purr at the thought of destruction far beyond what even Jazz had in mind.

~You aren't actually going to try for that, are you?~ Jazz looked at the tactician with careful wariness.

~No, planetary scale is far beyond us, even if we manage to get the largest military ship I can manage,~ Prowl replied. ~It's still nice to think of.~

~So was it Prime or Primus that's kept Cybertron intact so long?~ Thundercracker asked with a flare of uneasiness.

~Primus. I can't destroy the only reason to fight.~ Prowl actually teeked aghast at the idea.

~I like the idea of leveling this place. If we do it right they'll have to bring in troops from another base to dig everyone out and that'll give us more time to get away,~ Deadlock was really liking the direction Prowl's thoughts were going even if destroying the planet was impossible. It was the first time he consciously decided that the Praxian didn't exist solely to annoy the pit out of him and just maybe could be worth respecting. ~Is there a transport around here we can steal to get away?~

Thundercracker sighed, ~I haven't seen a space transport or landing area for one during our flights.~

~There are space transportation hubs in all the larger cities. I know the location of the closest one if we want to head there. It's not too far from where Jazz was purchased,~ Wing suggested, a bit shaken by the direction the conversation had taken. He'd been blatantly reminded just how different he was from the rest of the gestalt.

~You'll get used to it,~ Thundercracker tried to reassure him. ~Except Deadlock, we all went through an adjustment period to war.~

~Based on the slowest we have to go, how long will it take us to reach this spaceport? Also, what is the security like?~ Prowl focused on what the plan needed.

~Do we want to try and rescue any Cybertronians we come across?~ Jazz asked.

Prowl wavered. It was an additional risk, but also a potential additional asset.

~I haven't seen many of our kind in all my vorns here; we are not a common slave type on this planet. Rescuing any others we find would make it more difficult for them to try to replicate this process; they were specifically looking for Cybertronians from the beginning. That would be another way to damage this project and those running it. It is also the right thing to do,~ Wing pointed out, ticking off the reasons why they should try. ~As for your first question, it is a couple groons drive to the nearest spaceport. Thankfully it's on the outskirts of the city, though it's a high traffic area.~

~What would we need to do to avoid being identified as aliens, or at least mechanoids, once in a populated area?~ Prowl directed primarily at Wing and Jazz.

~Robes would probably help,~ Wing thought about what he'd seen in the hubs he visited with his previous masters. ~Most of the locals don't wear them, but it's not uncommon to see alien visitors in them. We're the right size not to attract attention that way, but we obviously don't look organic so trying to pass for natives would be tricky.~

~If we robe up right, it'll be easy to avoid being IDed at a distance. They'd have to be up close to see our faces,~ Jazz grinned. ~Wing, where would you go to get something like that? Large swaths of plain fabric.~

~I know where the laundry is here on the base,~ he pulled up the schematics he had and sent the packet to everyone. After a thought he also included another packet with the directions they'd traveled during the trip to get Jazz and his own arrival at the base. After a nudge from Jazz that proceeded Prowl's by a fraction of a nanoklik, he added all the other maps, directions and legal trivia he'd collected over the generations he'd walked among the locals.

Prowl turned his attention to Jazz. ~How long will it take you to hack in and arrange for a distraction and open doors?~

Jazz took a quick look at the base map before answering. ~Gimme a couple orns to make sure everything is in place. We should be ready to break out of here before it's time for Deadlock and Wing's next little torture session.~

~Agreed.~ Thundercracker's rumble briefly vibrated the table and unsettled Wing and Deadlock before he reined it in.

~Are we all sure all the slave codes are broken, even Flightplan's?~ Wing asked.

~Yap, we're all clear. We'll need to clear his helm and hands of the trackers and then we'll be good to go,~ Jazz assured them all. ~I'll get the robes and other goodies from storage while I'm getting things up.~

~How are we going to get a transport and energon?~ Thundercracker asked.

~Buy it.~ Prowl suggested, earning stares from all of his companions.

Jazz caught on first and his grin threatened to split his face. ~You're right. Between us we have the skills and info.~

~Somebody clue me in,~ Wing requested with a bewildered look.

~You know how the banking and electronic buying systems work. I know how to hack and set the buy up and Prowl's got the processor to brute force any security I can't sneak around. When we get out we'll have a well-stocked small inter-stellar ship ready to lift off,~ Jazz explained.

~Oh. Is there anything the rest of us need to do besides continue to act subservient?~ Wing nodded.

~Be observant. Be supportive,~ Prowl suggested.

~Be ready for the pain of capture,~ Jazz added quietly. ~Let it move you faster, quieter and without hesitation. If escape fails we can expect to be reformatted to the best of their abilities.~

~On that note, remember that if they recapture one of us they will be able to find the rest,~ Prowl said. ~We must escape their space as a unit, no one left behind.~

~Just let us know when it's time to act. We'll be ready and waiting to follow your plan,~ Deadlock said, acknowledging the tactician and saboteur's experience.

* * *

Wing had settled into a light meditative state as he pressed against Thundercracker on the berth as they waited patiently. Jazz had reported everything was in place, and Wing expected it would happen soon. Even though his unit's ruthlessness occasionally alarmed him, right now his swords were Prowl's to command. He was centered by the time Thundercracker nudged him well into the night. It was time to move and they quickly got their makeshift robes on, though for Thundercracker it was of limited use thanks to his wings. A large as they were there was simply no way to make him look plausibly natural. Still, it hid the sheen of his metal and changed his shape some.

A glance around and Wing dimmed his optics as much as possible and was careful where he looked to keep the reflections at a minimum. Even though Jazz said all the monitoring equipment was feeding false readings there was always at least one native in the observation booth to watch for trouble that the sensors might miss. 

The door opened at Thundercracker's request and they stepped into the common space as Deadlock did. Prowl and Jazz were huddled by the large door, indistinguishable from each other in their dark robes. That giant door moved more slowly that the normal sized one, but they only needed it open a crack and the path outside was far simpler than the other route.

To Wing, this was possibly the most risky part of the plan, and he could only hope they'd have an inattentive guard give how late in the shift it was. He tensed as the door started slowly opening and waited for the alarm to sound. When only the sound of the doors sliding greeted them, all five let out a vent of relief. Jazz grinned and motioned them to follow as he darted forward. A tiny flash of reflection in his hand drew Wing's attention to the blade and he focused in on the small weapon. Somehow Jazz had gotten his hands on a knife some warriors carried, but he had no time to work out when or how. They needed silence.

Wing was going to wait until the others had started forward before following the group out. He trusted all of them in a fight, but he still intended to bring up the rear to cover them. Thinking a moment, he drew and silently offered Prowl one of his short swords. The hand that took it was confident in its grip with a flash of warmth-thanks in the field. The blade disappeared into Prowl's subspace to keep the glint down and then there was the welcome and dangerous openness of the empty land the base was situated on.

::As soon as we're over that sand dune, transform and head for the city and ship Jazz procured for us.:: Prowl's ultra short range comm barely reached the five paces to Wing and only pings replied. Of them it was only Thundercracker who might have difficulties with the low speed and even lower altitude and the Seeker was genuinely insulted that anyone thought he couldn't remain under the radar.

Once the others started forward Wing followed just a few paces behind as he'd planned. Even Deadlock who hated everything about this base and wanted to blast it to scrap kept silent and stealthy as they fled. Wing kept expecting to see the lights flash on or hear that voice trying to order them back into captivity, but everything was silent and still as they sprinted across the open ground and out towards the unfamiliar dunes.

Then it happened. Lights and sound erupted behind them just as they were shielded by the dune, only it wasn't an alarm.

"Gotcha," Jazz's gleeful grin was manic and utterly insane to Wing, yet all three who knew him regarded it as a good thing. Even Deadlock seemed happy.

Well, the destruction of the power plant would definitely keep everyone busy while they made their getaway, and he had to admit hearing it explode was somewhat satisfying. Wing quickly removed and subspaced the robe to use again closer to civilization. "Meet you there," he briefly clasped a hand to Thundercracker's arm before motioning for the Seeker to take off. Thundercracker grasped him in return in the warrior's shake and stripped his robes as well. The grounders were already off, though that meant little. Both fliers would have to loop repeatedly to avoid outpacing their gestalt mates.

As they progressed Wing grew ever more grateful that he wasn't on the ground. All three grounders were having trouble on the unstable surface and the importance of not being seen meant their headlights were off and they didn't dare get on the roads for any length of time. It might not be fun keeping pace with mechs so much slower than his minimum speed but at least flying was flying, even when it was barely twice Thundercracker's height over the surface.

Even in the darkness they seemed to be making steady progress. He tried to keep an optic out for any larger hazards that would be impede or even render the way impassible for the grounders but mostly it was a long slow trip filled with tension. No one appeared to be following them, but Wing was still anxious to get off this planet as soon as possible. Despite the destruction behind them there was no real way to know how complete it was. If the teek of his companions was anything to go by though, no one was likely to be following anytime soon. It could take metacycles to dig out the rubble to confirm that they hadn't extinguished in their cells.

That only applied if they weren't spotted, however.

"Down!" Thundercracker hissed sharply to Wing as the Seeker transformed and all but bodily shoved Wing to the ground before landing on him with wide-splayed wings.

Trying to ignore the grit making its way into his seams, Wing felt the impact coat his paint in sand as well as giving way to form a small pit that helped to hide his white paint in the darkness. He held still, keeping as silent as possible as he listened for any pursuers. All he could really hear was the transformations of the others and the silence as they stilled, presumably concealed.

After a few long, tense kliks he heard and felt a pulsing rumble from the engines of a transport moving past them. It was most likely heading towards the base to help with rescue operations, and he hoped it would be too intent on its destination to spot the grounders' trails through the wilderness. 

Keeping his optics dim, Wing looked out where the grounders had been last. The only one he could see was Deadlock, keeping himself still and under control as they waited for the transport to pass. 

The moment it was gone the mostly-black Decepticon all but exploded at Thundercracker. "We could have taken it!" 

"Yes, we could have, and brought attention to our situation and location," Thundercracker reminded his frustrated subordinate.

Even standing upright and unblocked by wide Seeker wings, Wing realized he still couldn't spot Jazz or Prowl. He's worried looking around caught Thundercracker's attention away from the stewing Deadlock.

"Over there," the Seeker pointed towards nothing Wing could see until it began to rise up. It looked like shifting sand, some kind of organic creature at first. Only after their cloaks were out of the way and shaken off did the mechs' frames become clear.

"How did you _see_ that?" Wing stared at the old warrior.

"I saw them dive for cover," Thundercracker chuckled.

"I'm impressed," Wing admitted, both by the pair's concealment and Thundercracker tracking it.

"Now that the admiration fest is over can we get moving?" Deadlock snarled. He hadn't directly been part of destroying anything so far and would rather take out his frustrations on the organics than his team.

"Deadlock is correct; we should continue moving as quickly as possible. An unknown number of transports may pass overhead, and the additional personal searching the destruction at the base will shorten our timeframe," Prowl checked everyone quickly for damage before transforming.

* * *

They were nearly a joor into the careful walk through a lightly populated, largely warehouse filled section of the city in the early dusk. They could see the spaceport easily, the control tower's spire riding well above even the tallest building, but as close as it looked they all knew it was still joors away. If they made it before dawn they'd have made good time. It was something that couldn't currently be said.

"Hay you, you haven't paid the fee to pass through here," a rough, almost gleeful voice yelled at them.

It looked sudden to Wing, but he could teek the lack of surprise in the others and realized that his gestalt mates must have noted these people some time ago. Deadlock suddenly teeked gleeful, Jazz smug and anticipatory, and Thundercracker's groan was nearly audible. It was Prowl that surprised Wing though. He teeked nearly as excited as Deadlock at the pending fight.

The group of eight organics approaching them were trying took look rough and dangerous, although they fell far short compared to what Wing knew about his gestalt mates. The green sire with short blue hair standing in the middle appeared to be the one who'd spoken to them, and he got more aggressive with the lack of a response, "You deaf? I said pay up."

"We don't want any trouble," Wing started to say, really not wanting a fight to attract the attention of the local authorities. They were so close to getting of this planet.

"Speak for yourself," Deadlock snarled as he stepped forward to the front of their group.

"Well you have it," the gang leader smirked.

"They'll provide weapons," Prowl whispered to Wing as he stepped up to stand by Deadlock in a protective show that all five knew was only a show. Any one of the mechs could take down the entire gang.

"Anyone way to lay bets on how long this'll take?" Jazz grinned with a bit of manic glee. 

"Long enough to attract the local enforcers?" Wing hissed as Thundercracker waited beside him, seemingly content to remain on watch while the flock's grounders took care of the current situation.

"This'll be over before they get here," Deadlock said, dismissing Wing's concerns about the authorities.

Wings words were enough to stop Prowl, however, and the Praxian faltered in his stance. It was exactly the opening the organics were looking for and they rushed the grounders, focusing on Prowl. Thundercracker and Wing watched as Prowl's stance shifted from half stood down aggressive one to a defensive posture Wing didn't recognize and thought he should.

"Enforcer training. A derivative of Diffusion," Thundercracker supplied as the first organic reached Prowl and a soft fleshy fist impacted battle-grade Cybertronian armor with a thud and crumbling of flesh and bone.

The shocked cry of pain from the impact was almost drowned out by the yells and cries coming from the others as Deadlock waded into the fight. He casually kicked one of the organics into a wall while reaching out and grabbing another by an arm before throwing that one at the leader of the group. Jazz moved far more stealthily, his intent to take as many weapons as possible before the survivors fled clear to the fliers if not to his victims.

"You really should take more care in picking victims," Prowl spoke with a deadly calm that was more terrifying than Deadlock's joy's howls.

"What are you freaks?" One of the two organics still standing yelled as he started to run while trying to dodge the body Deadlock casually threw at him.

"Get back here," Wing hissed as the angry grounder started to chase after the fleeing organic. "We have to get moving. Together."

The words stopped Prowl dead, paused Jazz long enough for the mech to decide to obey, and everyone was a touch surprised when Deadlock actually allowed the runners to escape. He whirled on Wing and snarled, but he remained.

"Got everything?" Prowl looked at Jazz.

"Yap," he grinned and tossed various weapons to those that knew how to use them.

"Thank you," Wing said as he accepted his sword back from Prowl now that the Praxian had another weapon. Looking around at the organics strewn around the alley entrance, he sighed and regretted the loss of stealth. "We'd better get moving before the enforcers get here; we've still got a long way to go."

"If they're like LEOs everywhere else, we have a joor or more, and possibly orns," Prowl said with a bit of a shrug as they began moving again. "Dead gang members are almost never viewed as a crime worth investigating."

"If we're in gang land, why don't we just pick up a ride and get to the port in a groon or two?" Jazz glanced around.

"I'd like to out of this mockery as soon as possible," Thundercracker shifted the cloth on his wings trying to get it to settle more comfortably.

"I can drive most of the local vehicles if you can acquire one," Wing offered.

"Awesome," Jazz grinned happily at him.

"Go." Prowl made a vague hand wave forward and to the side and Jazz was off.

"But..." Wing objected.

"That psycho can handle himself," Prowl said firmly as they continued to walk. "He can drive anything too, I expect. Mech hasn't met a thing he couldn't hack, even if some he'd _really_ rather not try to again."

"So he'll be piloting the transport?" Wing asked. He glanced back at Deadlock trailing sullenly behind them. "I'm sorry he's upset right now, but I'm not sorry that his fun was spoiled. Killing gang members doesn't do anything to harm those responsible for what happened to us."

"It does do something productive for the area, however," Prowl said with calm conviction. "Anyone who would assault another over walking down a public street is a public menace best put down quickly."

"I expect all of us can fly it, or will be able to within the orn," Thundercracker shrugged. "It can't be that hard."

"Perhaps, but chasing down gang members is time wasted right now," Wing had to acknowledge the cold practicality behind Prowl's words even as he tried to balance them against his own views on rehabilitation. "I would prefer not to have to fight our way off this planet."

"Agreed," Prowl nodded. "I'm sure we'll find a planet we can use to burn off some of our aggressive energy soon. Some of us will need it. The rest of us still need to move."

"There are planets where we can drive and fly in safety," Wing continued to keep an optic out for Jazz as they walked. "I wouldn't mind a good fight if we encounter any slavers later."

"I doubt anyone would object to that," Prowl said, then paused. "Vehicle coming."

To Wing it was obvious that his flock was ready to fight if necessary, but he thought they were all doing a good job attempting to avoid attention. Deadlock was still itching for a fight but that attitude wouldn't stand out too much in this neighborhood. The approaching vehicle was a tan transport which had seen better orns, but its larger size would be enough to hold all of them comfortably. As it drew closer, Jazz's cloth-wrapped frame became visible in the driver's seat and the entire team relaxed.

"All aboard that's coming aboard," Jazz called to them cheerfully as Prowl opened the sliding side door and jumped in. Wing climbed in and seated himself while Thundercracker motioned Deadlock to enter next. The Seeker took a quick glance around to spot any potential observers before joining them all and settling awkwardly in a seat not designed for fliers.

"Let's get off this heap," Deadlock settled in the seat closest to the door as Jazz pulled away from the curb.

* * *

With Jazz easily keeping to the flow of traffic they attracted very little attention as they approached the port. "Security seems a bit more alert than last time but not at any state of emergency I've seen. The explosion may have sent some warnings out, but I don't think our escape has been noticed yet."

"Good," Prowl let out a small sound of relief. "Now we just need to get over the parameter fence."

"Our ship is on the far side with the other small interstellar ships," Jazz explained as they passed the primary port turnoff and traffic thinned out considerably.

"Would it make sense to drop this vehicle in long term parking and walk closer to the fence? Or should we just drive up to one of the loading docks and try to slip through?" Wing asked, curious since he hadn't had to do anything quite like this when he left the city.

"We can't look like we belong enough to slip in with workers," Jazz shook his helm.

"Personally I'd rather just crash through the gate but I know that's not the plan," Deadlock settled back grudgingly content to follow the pair of experts for now. After all, they'd gotten them this far.

"Have you seen if it's monitored by guards?" Jazz asked as they made their way around to the side of the port where their ship was. "I was thinking we'd just ditch the van close to the fence and jump it after dark."

Wing thought about the this port compared to the others he'd been to traveling with his former masters before answering, "The long term parking here has a time-stamped ticket you grab when you arrive, and you pay the attendant when you leave. Most ports use mostly automated security in these areas since the vehicles being left are typically fairly empty and don't have a quick turnover. We'd probably attract less attention from security if we leave it in the lot rather than against the fence."

"Any objections?" Jazz glanced primarily at Prowl.

"Trust Wing on local norms," the Praxian decided. They all fell silent as Jazz took them to the long term parking lot closest to their ship's dock. It was debatable who was more relieved when the attendant didn't even glance at them on their way in, as his attention was directed to the potential customers that might be leaving.

There were a few other vehicles looking for parking spaces in the early dusk and one couple that looked to be headed for their vehicle, but overall it was fairly deserted for how many vehicles it currently held. Thundercracker, who was staring out the window noted, "There's a space two rows over that's far enough from the light to help hide my wings."

"Then that's where we're going," Jazz said agreeably and headed for the spot that was not considered a good one by most. With the van turned off they waited until no one could see the side door and slipped out with Thundercracker leaving last so the others could be alert for a reason he shouldn't be in the open yet. Everyone was relieved when he was out of the van and more fully in the darkness, and they were off for the fence and the ship they couldn't see yet but knew where it was.

Wing and Thundercracker both trailed just a few steps behind the grounders, looking out for any trouble. Neither really wanted to be shot at again, but, since the fliers could both follow the ship into space if necessary, they had already quietly planned to be the distractions if their flock was spotted. Thundercracker could follow it past the furthest moon if he really had to, though he'd be on fumes by then. Wing didn't have the range but he had the speed to catch up much faster.

Each flash of movement caused both fliers and Prowl to freeze in place, tracing the motion and ensuring that it wasn't directed at the group before moving on. Jazz strolled along like he owned the place despite keeping to shadows when he could and Deadlock moved like the perfect obvious bodyguard that he was. As they got closer, Thundercracker had time to appreciate how Prowl had been designated. He and Jazz both owned the shadows, but in such different ways. It was as fascinating as watching his former trine own the sky in their very different ways.

"That one," Jazz pointed quietly to a large interstellar shuttle off away from the bustle of transport activity that dominated this area.

It looked big enough not to trigger immediate claustrophobic reactions from the two fliers as well as capable of getting them far away from this system. Looking at the open area between them and the shuttle, Thundercracker asked, "Are we going to all sneak over there without attracting attention or are we going to need another distraction?"

Wing almost groaned out loud as Deadlock perked up at the suggestion of further violence.

"Thundercracker, do your best to keep to the shadows and not seen. The rest of us are going to be a distraction in the context of walking right to it as if we have the fully legal right to be there and board it," Prowl stated, though his glance towards Wing and Jazz spoke of openness to input.

"Sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight acting like you are supposed to be there," Jazz agreed as he checked for any the cameras aimed at their ship. He spotted two that were slowly panning back and forth, but nothing that indicated the _Ambergret_ was of special interest.

Wing snickered. "Too true. It's amazing how far you can get by just looking like you have every right to be there."

Prowl nodded and a visceral change happened in his frame language that read clearly through his concealing robes. "Then let's go."

Wing moved with Prowl, falling in step just in front of Deadlock, allowing Deadlock to act as if he actually was their bodyguard while also keeping the berserker from having to talk to anyone. It worked as far as Wing could tell. Though several people looked their way, all were brief glances triggered by movement and none remained on them long enough to indicate interest or suspicion.

When they reached the ship Jazz triggered the ramp and door panel, but it was Deadlock that went up first.

"He really was a bodyguard before the war," Prowl whispered at Wing's curiosity. "He'll quickly check the ship for threats, then we'll enter. By then no one should care about movement here."

Jazz kept an optic on Thundercracker as the Seeker made his way through the shadows towards them. He wasn't attracting any attention so far but hadn't made it to the ship just yet.

After a few tense moments, Deadlock came back and nodded, confirming the ship was clear. Prowl walked up the ramp and the others followed. It was enough that by the time Thundercracker fell in behind Wing no one was really looking at them.

The moment the door closed there was a wave of relief and cloaks were shed. Prowl's doorwings unfolded and fluttered rapidly in a full rotation of motion and expression of relief at being exposed to the environment once more. It was in that moment that Wing understood just how important they were to Prowl's awareness, though he didn't completely understand how.

"Wing, get to the bridge and check the ship out, ensure you really can fly it and we're fueled," Prowl ordered as he fell into his natural role of manager. "Jazz, check every crevice you can find for nasty surprises. Then do what you can to leave a few for any intruders that might try to board later. Deadlock, Thundercracker, check that we've got the supplies we ordered and that the ship is big enough for a Seeker. Check the berths for quality too," he added towards the Seeker, knowing Thundercracker would know what he wanted.

Deadlock took off with a grunt towards the small galley to check that the energon dispenser he'd spotted earlier actually worked while Thundercracker nodded and headed directly for the recharge quarters on the second floor, hoping but not optimistic that the berths would be suitable for wings and not too claustrophobic. At least he didn't have to duck as he passed through the doorways. Going a bit sideways was annoying enough, but he was used to that. It was a rare small ship that was designed with Seekers in mind even among Decepticons.

He was more than a bit surprised when he stepped onto the second floor and was greeted by three doors on each side plus one on the far end of the hall. A quick glance at the layout schematic Jazz had given them all said that the room immediately to his left was the washrack, the one adjoining it was for Thundercracker and the other rooms along the hall were also recharge quarters. The far door lead to an all-purpose room with a large viewport that displayed the direction the ship was going.

He started by making a quick check of the washrack, which looked sufficient for him although as cramped as he expected on a ship this size. After making certain everything was in order, working properly and stowed away safely he left and entered his own quarters.

The room was a bit smaller than he would prefer but wasn't going to drive him mad simply by closing the door. The berth was just large enough that Wing would be able to join him although it would be a snug fit for the pair. Assuming it was comfortable enough for anyone with wings. Well, he'd just have to test out everyone's berths to be certain.

A comm ping interrupted his testing of the berth patting and he opened it when he recognized Jazz's ID on it.

::It won't take much to take down the wall between your room and Wing's if he's agreeable. How's the berth?:: Jazz chatted at him.

::Surprisingly soft. How did you know?:: Thundercracker asked.

::It's my job to know. And I've been with more than a few flight frames,:: Jazz chuckled, then closed the line.

Satisfied with his own berth, he left the room and entered Wing's new quarters. After a quick scan of the wall he agreed with Jazz's assessment, they should be able to take that down without much issue even while traveling. Wing's berth was as comfortable as his own, but he didn't linger. There were four more rooms to check including the viewing area.

As he walked into the lounge with the large viewport he mused over how the rooms had been assigned. He had the largest and Wing the smallest, with the grounder's rooms were all the same size, but other than some care in the berth size all five quarters were equipped the same. The furniture in this room wasn't going to be as comfortable to sit on, but he could handle it. He'd dealt with grounder furniture during most of the war and at least this stuff was padded.

* * *

Wing settled into the pilot seat on the bridge and started a standard pre-flight check. He hadn't flown this specific model of shuttle before, but at least he could read the controls and it followed the layout he was familiar with. The fuel gauge showed they actually had the full tanks Jazz had paid for and all the other readings indicated the ship was in good condition. In all, it looked good.

"Do you still believe you can pilot this through interstellar space?" Prowl asked as he sat down in the co-pilot's chair and plugged in.

"Definitely. The controls and readouts are in the standard arrangement," Wing assured him.

"Good. Have you ever piloted in combat?" Prowl asked while he delved into the electronic world of the shuttle.

"I've been chased by pirates while flying, but if you are talking about the Exodus I wasn't a pilot then," Wing answered as he finished the take-off checks. "I did have a couple of the pilots as teachers."

"Mostly I was wondering whether it would be worth the time to ensure Jazz or I can fly this ship in case they come after us," Prowl explained.

"It's always good to have at least one back-up pilot in case of emergency," Wing readily agreed. "Especially with how we are leaving this planet. Once we're away we can go over the controls and compare our skills."

Prowl nodded his acceptance. "Is the ship in order by the readings?"

"Yes, Jazz chose well when he purchased this one. Systems seem to be running smoothly, and I see no signs of immediate problems. It should get us out of the system safely. Provided we don't get attacked at take-off. They'd have to be careful trying to shoot us down if they didn't want to destroy their investment," Wing gave the system checks one last scan to make certain he hadn't missed anything critical but everything still seemed in order.

"Agreed. My investigation concurs with the readings. I have not found any remote controls I cannot override. Based on the star charts, can you tell where we are relative to Cybertron?" 

"I can try to locate it, but I haven't looked for Cybertron on star charts in a long time," Wing pulled up the maps and started comparing them to the ones he was more familiar with from his last disastrous trip. One thing he was certain of was that he was a long way from his own home.

"It would be good to know what direction we wish to go, though for now what direction the nearest neutral spaceport is will do," Prowl said.

"I've got coordinates for several of those. It shouldn't be hard to find one near enough for a first stop," Wing agreed as he continued searching the star charts.

"Good. Plot a course for one that will be difficult to trace," Prowl relaxed and pinged Jazz for an update.

::Hey, Prowl. Not much to report up here other than a couple of small bugs I've already taken care of. Doesn't look like anyone had time to plant anything serious yet,:: Jazz answered as he was finishing up his check of the engine room.

::Good. We should be ready to launch within the joor. Do you concur?:: 

Jazz made a last scan before heading out of the room to go upstairs. ::Yeah, Deadlock and Thundercracker haven't reported finding anything funny yet, and the quicker we get away the better. They've gotta be close to digging out our quarters by now, and that's when everything's going to go crazy.::

::Agreed. We will leave as soon as Wing is ready,:: Prowl agreed.

* * *

Not wanting to trigger any suspicion on the other end, Wing focus on acting as if everything was normal as he commed the tower. Everything had been going so well so far, and they were so close to getting away. "Tower, this is _Ambergret_. We have prepared and are transmitting our course for the Nebulan system."

" _Ambregret, this is the tower. Your flight plan has arrived. Proceed to launch line three. You are third in line._ "

"Acknowledged," Wing closed his end of the comm and finished the prep work to head for the launch line. He'd been waiting so long for this taste of freedom and couldn't help but whisper almost to himself, "We're actually going to get out of here."

"Yes, and if it goes well we will not be chased until we are long gone," Prowl agreed from behind the pilot and co-pilot chairs.

"Goes well or not, we're out of here," Jazz said fiercely from the co-pilot's chair.

Everyone shivered to some extent in anticipation as they began to move to take their place in line.

Tension built in everyone's fields as the first two ships took off without any issues. The next ship in front of them took a bit longer but finally moved into launch position. Once it finally took off, Wing reactivated the comm, "Tower, we are moving into position."

" _Understood Ambregret. You are cleared for launch._ "

This time the shivers of anticipation were more pronounced but covered more effectively by the interstellar engine powering up in preparation to escape the planet's gravity well.

"Everyone strapped in?" Wing gave a glance back towards the navigation station and two extra seats that had been installed.

"Yeah, let's get outta here," Deadlock said from his seat in the back, the desire to watch their escape keeping him rational for now. At least here in the cockpit he knew no one was going to throw him out of the ship without a pit of a fight. Not that he really expected any of his gestalt to do such a thing, but old fears founded in experience seldom made sense.

Wing activated the launch systems and braced against the force as they started to leave the planet.

"Leaving the troposphere," Jazz began to rattle off their accomplishments.

As Wing listened to Jazz's next announcement that they were leaving the stratosphere, he heard a comm from the Tower.

" _Ambregret, please acknowledge._ "

"I think they finally noticed we're gone," Wing informed the others as they lifted further away from the planet.

"Too little, too late," Thundercracker said with a pleased smirk.

"Not if they have fighters," Prowl countered as his frame went tense.

"Keep it together, everybody. We are getting out of here," Jazz growled as he hacked the override to the engine and powered them out of the atmosphere and then past the nearest moon as fast as the ship and their frames could take. "That'll leave enough of a mess to keep them busy for a while."

"Transponder and all signals are now off line," Prowl reported while they were still accelerating through the planetary disk.

"We'll be gone before they can scramble anyone to chase us," Wing said optimistically as he watched the readings as he ignored the hail from the far outpost. "There can't be that many fighters at this colony, and they weren't ready for us to make a break for it."

"Stop assuming they're as good as you or Screamer," Jazz said cheerfully to Prowl, earning a snarl from the Praxian.

"Crazy Ops has a point," Thundercracker tried to sooth it over as they used the cover of a planet to change direction. "Nothing we encountered there indicated they are as organized as you are."

"Except capturing and keeping all of us," Prowl grumbled as he settled. 

"Don't give them more credit for that then they are truly due. My ship was initially shot down by slavers, and I was purchased from them with the slave coding already in place. Prowl, if your condition when I first saw you was any indication, you were severely damaged before they found you," Wing reminded his gestaltmate.

"How did they keep the rest of you?" Prowl asked as they all relaxed a bit with the lack of apparent pursuit.

"Like Wing, I was biding my time and collecting intel," Jazz shrugged. "That race didn't capture me. I was shot down and left for deactivated by the DJD. Mechanoid slavers and a couple changes of hands later landed me on that world."

"Turmoil and I had another major disagreement, and I wasn't going to put up with his discipline anymore," Deadlock grunted, glad he wouldn't be expected elaborate more than that with this group. "Getting away from him got a bit more complicated than I expected. Fighting in the gladiator pits was kinda pathetic, but it wasn't worth trying to break out on my own."

"Wheeljack." Thundercracker's wings shivered in distress at memories far worse than his imprisonment.

Jazz snickered. "The danger of not having finely honed Jack avoidance skills."

"Is this Wheeljack that dangerous?" Wing looked back at them curiously, knowing he was once again missing something the other four knew.

"He's a walking catastrophe," Deadlock laughed. "Makes the battlefield more entertaining."

"Indeed. A brilliant inventor with a few permanently fried circuses thanks to Shockwave. When his inventions work, they are game changers," Prowl agreed.

"They can be game changers even when they don't," Jazz laughed brightly. "Mech's a walking contradiction."

"As is Jazz, though in his case it is intentional," Prowl said dryly.

"So his invention caused your capture?" Wing asked.

"Most likely the explosion took Thundercracker out so someone scavenged him off the battlefield," Deadlock looked over at the Seeker for confirmation.

"An explosion yes, but a portal," Thundercracker explained. "I booted somewhere far from Cybertron and less than friendly to the idea of free mechanoids."

"So it sounds like most of their success capturing us is actually because of chance and the abilities of others," Wing settled back in his chair. "We are well on our way clear of this system, and we know the coordinates of all of their colony worlds. We should be able to stay far enough away from them to be safe."

"Now we just have to stay clear of slavers until we get home," Jazz relaxed in his chair. "How long before our first port?"

Wing double-checked the coordinates in the computer before answering, "About a decaorn or so. We wanted to be well away from here and any of their allies before contacting anyone, and this one has a reputation as neutral territory."


End file.
